


Order No. 87

by decoris



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Attempt at Humor, Bad Decisions, Blow Jobs, Bottom Germany (Hetalia), Brothers North Italy & South Italy (Hetalia), Complicated Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Drama, Dry Humping, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Porn, Emotional Sex, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fandom Allusions & Cliches & References, First Time, Flirting, Germany is not Holy Roman Empire, Germany-Centric (Hetalia), Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Hetalia Kink Meme, Historical Figures, Historical Hetalia, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Jealousy, Kink Meme, Kissing, Long, Loss of Virginity, Love/Hate, Making Out, Minor Original Character(s), Missionary Position, Multiple Orgasms, Nazi Germany, Neck Kissing, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Out of Character, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Pillow Talk, Politics, Poor Germany (Hetalia), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Protective Siblings, Riding, Romance, Rough Kissing, Seme North Italy, Sensitive themes, Slow Burn, Symbolism, Teasing, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, Vanilla, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 87,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decoris/pseuds/decoris
Summary: "It is possible, yes?"Well, yes she supposed it was —"Then it's perfect!"No, there was nothing perfect about Germany being ordered to get pregnant through any means possible. Seeing Italy as the only way to do so, Germany must now find a way to seduce that idiot. With World War II still in full swing and tensions rising, she wonders how she'll ever pull through with this.Because perhaps not everything is how it seems.Kink meme fill, Italy/Fem!Germany. Starts out humorous but then turns darker with lots of eventual smut.
Relationships: Female Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 63
Kudos: 98





	1. And So It Begins

In this life, there was only idiocy or honesty.

Her boss always chose to be the idiot.

Germany sat in her black uniform in his small office laden with the scent of stale, polished wood. It seeped into every corner of the room brimming with staid expressions and even more rigid postures.

"Excuse me? You want me to get pregnant with _Italy's_ child?"

Hitler turned around in his leather chair. "It is possible, yes?"

She tightened the hold on her pencil skirt he made her wear when she visited. "Well hypothetically _yes — "_

He smiled. "Then it's perfect! Have you never thought about having children before?"

It was said in a way that was meant to patronize, to ostracise, and she lowered her eyes slightly. "No, _Mein Führer,_ I have not. My home has never been stable enough to think about such things. And well, no other female nation has ever had a child before. We do not know if it is even possible!"

He rose from his chair, his idea already coming to fruition the moment he thought about it. "You don't need to worry about the safety of your child. When we win this war, Germany will be the perfect place to raise your son. He will grow up strong, stronger than any human child, and be the perfect example of the Aryan race! How could I have not thought about it before?"

She frowned. "But what about my men? I cannot battle if I am pregnant. Pregnancy would only make me vulnerable to the enemy."

Hitler tsked. "You shouldn't even be in the front lines in the first place. That is why we have Prussia."

Hitler stood in front of her. "Do not worry about your military or men. I will take care of it. You've been doing far too much for far too long. If you don't start learning the more feminine arts now, you never will. You are a woman, and that cannot be ignored a moment longer. The military is no place for a woman like you, a beautiful woman like you."

Germany didn't understand what was going on. Her stomach was churning up, and she felt the eyes of her high-ranking generals glance around in confusion as well. There was the collected question of _what are you talking about?_ Out of all of them, she was the most competent. They would be dead without her help and battle strategies!

" _Mein Führer_...are you decommissioning me?" she ventured not wanting to believe what he was alluding to.

"Yes. You are to be on permanent leave from your position. Once you get pregnant, you will no longer be able to fight. And obviously, once your son is born, you cannot return to the field."

She would have gaped if she were more callow, but instead, she tightened her jaw to stop the nasty pejoratives she wanted to scream out.

"I am being demoted all together? What if I cannot get pregnant?"

"You will get pregnant!" he suddenly yelled, Germany wincing as she triggered an all too familiar episode of rage. She had been trying to be careful and not make him angry because of how easily he flipped these days, one moment fine, the next seething, and she knew this argument was as good as done. She wasn't going to be able to reason with him now.

"You will get pregnant with a son and that is an order! I do not care how you do it, but it must be soon! You will not be assigned any more missions or orders from here on out. Your position will be given to someone else. You are to stay at home and raise your son. All orders will be given to Prussia, and you are to stay out of military affairs. Do I make myself clear?"

She swallowed, the reality of her world crumbling beneath her feet almost depersonalizing as to how easily it could be ripped away from her. "Understood, _Mein Führer."_

Seeing she wasn't going to fight him anymore, he calmed down slightly. He outstretched his hand. "Good. Now give me your insignia."

She numbly reached to her breast and unbreached the insignia that indicated her power. It was with this little golden broach that established her authority below the _Führer_. It was a unique ranking only to her as she was an anomaly in the military, not a human yet not a god, and it was the only broach like it that existed within the regime. Giving it away was to give away who she was. It was humiliating to place it in his gloved hand.

He clasped the insignia pleased. He had eyewitnesses to this demotion, and in a couple of seconds, her entire life was turned upside down. She wasn't processing the fact that she had to get pregnant by having sex with Italy and raise a child because she was more preoccupied with the pressing issue that she no longer had a role in the war whatsoever.

Hitler dropped her insignia in his pocket mindlessly and stepped back to his chair. "Good. I will be in communication with Mussolini very soon. Those lazy Italians are useless but they sure do know how to breed."

She didn't like the way he talked about Italy's people, the not so hidden disgust for the Meditterian people always on his tongue due to their darker skin.

He flickered his wrist up to gesture her to stand up. She did so, adjusting her skirt from the uniform he had tailored just for her since it was simply unacceptable to wear men's pants.

He looked her in the eye. "I know you do not like this idea now, but it is for your own good. You will thank me later. You will find joy in motherhood."

She bit the urge to say something foul.

"You were a good commander, Miss Germany. But it is time you do _your_ part. This is something only _you_ can do! There is a true miracle in making life! Do not let anyone tell you otherwise!" He smiled. "I look forward to seeing your results."

"Thank you, _Mein Führer._ "

That was the right answer because he nodded pleased. "Escort her out."

She glanced at the general stepping forward. She wanted to scream into the air. _This is so humiliating! Everything I've worked for down the drain! This can't be happening!_

She was escorted out after saluting and driven to her house in a quiet, almost remorseful solitude in the leather seats of a heavy Mercedes-Benz 770. In the silence, she stared out in the clouds thinking about what she was going to do now. Worry, worry, and worry settled and cemented itself into her skin. And it didn't go away even when the driver opened her door, bid her a safe day to watch her walk slowly to her front steps, and shut the door.

She stood by the door with her back on the wood, Blackie running up to greet her. She crouched down to peer into her puppy's black eyes, the reflection of her distorted.

_What am I going to do?_

* * *

Germany moped around the house for a couple of days after she had been told the news. Italy was gone due to an internal conflict happening in Rome that he had to attend to with Romano, and she was glad to not deal with her ally for a couple of days. She wasn't sure what her time limit was to get pregnant, but she presumed she didn't have the luxury of getting pregnant when she was ready to. She knew her boss wanted her to get pregnant immediately, and this made her even madder.

_I'm not a baby machine. I'm Germany! I conquered almost all of Europe in less than five years! This is ridiculous. And if he hates Italians that much, why does he want me to get pregnant with Italy's child? This makes no sense!_

Prussia was out of the house for an indefinite amount of time as he was in the Eastern front, and she wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she was feeling alone and miserable. Not even Japan could accompany her since he was busy in the Pacific. Sadly he had severely underestimated how personally America would take Pearl Harbor and the last she knew about him was that he was in the Solomon Islands. She wished him the best because these days Japan was getting thinner and more stubborn.

And so now that she was jobless and directionless, she was getting stir crazy from doing nothing all day. She had tried to sneak back into the Frankfurt base to at least say a proper goodbye to her men, albeit it a quick one, but she had been almost shot down by her boss's orders to fire at anyone on sight that looked like her. Her men had been warned that she might go against his wishes and try to sneak back into work, and her boss took every precaution to completely exclude her from everything involving the military. Her generals and soldiers couldn't talk to her anymore (with pained eyes she could tell, remorseful voices of _sorry, it's an order),_ and she was locked out of all government buildings where she had once had exclusive access before. She had the same rights as a citizen now, a normal human woman, and it infuriated her.

She had less power than the local butcher down the street.

And she was _Germany._

The only thing she had was her military uniform and necklace. On the third day, she had gotten desperate and asked to be at least a secretary. It didn't require her to be out in the field, she could work while pregnant, and she would be surrounded by other women. If Hitler was so hell bound to gender roles all of a sudden, then surely that was fine?

(No, it hadn't been fine. She needed to be home. She was to get fat and pregnant. She didn't need to worry her pretty little head about war anymore.)

Germany sighed walking toward her door. She had just gotten done grocery shopping for the second time that week, and the men at the stand had asked if she was taking her vacation early this year. She was usually never at the market at this time of day alone. They had also found it strange that she hadn't been wearing her uniform like always, some men joking that they had thought it was actually part of her skin when born, and they had been surprised to see her walking around in something casual.

She still didn't wear skirts and instead opted to wear slacks. She had tailored them herself to make them not appear so baggy on her form, and her choice of clothing was something that gave her many side-eyes and occasional police officers when going out. It was ridiculous in her opinion to be stopped by law enforcement over her clothing, but they would always ask her if she knew what she was wearing as if she was unable to look into a mirror. Men in uniforms would patronize her until she explained who she was. Normally she would flash her insignia and then that would shut them right up, every soldier knowing about the elusive and mysterious _Commander Germany_ within the military rank, perhaps urban legend at this point by how exaggerated the stories could be about her, but now that her ranking within the military was gone, it was essentially laughable to prove that she had any authority.

Not wanting to think about her boss and the potential future changes to her lifestyle, she opened the door to her house with a bit of a struggle. She had bought a lot of food for when Italy would come back. Her boss had sent her a hefty amount of money yesterday for the "second life growing in her". She had almost punched the poor paperboy.

She eventually managed to juggle the large paper brown bags resting in the crux of her forearm while jostling the keys to open the door to her house. She set down the bags of groceries on the kitchen table immediately and then shut the door. She began taking off her shoes until she heard loud footsteps.

"Germany?! Are you home?"

Her stomach dropped. _Oh no! Italy's home! Does he know about the order?!_

Italy was like an excitable puppy that didn't have full control of his legs as he fell down the last set of stairs in a helpless yelp. She heard thuds and sounds of pain, and she rushed over the staircase to see if he was okay.

He was tangled in a heap of limbs on the floor, his face pressed against the wood as if all the weight came crashing on his left side only, and she wouldn't be surprised if he would need to pop his neck later from the position. She checked to see if he had broken anything, the impact of the fall surely enough to do something to his unconditioned body.

"You idiot, what have I told you about running down the stairs! Check that there's a step underneath you!" she scolded helping him get back together. He was rubbing his head in pain from where he had fallen, and she glanced at his body to make sure there weren't any hidden injuries.

He laughed the pain away, glad to see her. "I got excited! I was getting bored without you!" He recovered in an instant and hugged her.

She wasn't surprised by the hug but she always did blush when in close contact with him. Recently, it was getting harder to ignore how nice he smelled and how different their bodies were when hugging so close.

She patted his back awkwardly, and Italy backed away glad to see her and get his hug.

"I bought food," she informed jerkily.

Italy perked up. "Did you get pasta?"

Germany made her way back to the kitchen. "I managed to find some pasta at the market today, luckily."

Italy was already rummaging through her groceries trying to see what else she had bought. He did always love it when she went grocery shopping. He pulled out a pastry wrapped in a thin bag and blinked. He took off the covering and was met with a large sugary cookie with a smiley face written in strawberry jam. The cookie was large, almost as large as his face, and it was heavy. It was a soft sugar cookie and remarkably cute in its innocence. Italy smiled and held up the cookie to his face.

"Hey, Germany turn around."

She did and was met with the sugar cookie smiley's face instead of Italy's face. He swayed his head around, Germany feeling his grin behind the cookie, and she smiled slightly not surprised that he found the treat so quickly.

"I got that for you." She coughed slightly into her hand turning a bit pink. "I thought you might like it."

He took the cookie away and smiled brightly just as she had suspected. "I do! The only good things about German food are your sweets and bread! Can I eat it right now?" He looked in the bag some more trying to find something. "You didn't get one for yourself?"

She decided to let go of his comment about her cooking this time. "No, I don't like sugar cookies all that much."

Italy looked down at the cookie and the surplus amount of groceries. He took a bite out of the sweet excited to have something so indulgent after eating such bland food out in the war front, and the sugar that melted into his tongue made his curl form into a heart. He hummed happily as he glanced at Germany's back. She was pulling out pans and pots from the stove, and he noticed her lack of uniform. It felt strange to be in uniform when Germany wasn't.

He chewed remembering Germany's advice to swallow fully before talking since he tended to choke when he got excited and ate.

"You have a lot more food than usual. This cookie must have been expensive. Did you get a raise? Are you hosting a party? Is Prussia coming back? And why aren't you in your uniform? Are you on vacation already?" he fired off.

She returned to the table and pulled out the meat she was going to begin tenderizing for dinner hours away. She barely glanced at Italy as she inspected the meat once again from the butcher. "I'm not hosting a party, and I'm not sure when _Bruder_ is coming back. He's still in the Eastern front. And as you know, I won't be working for a while..."

Italy gasped. "Really!? Yahoo! For how long? That means no training!"

A vein popped out of her forehead when hearing his jovial tone. "That doesn't mean you have an excuse to slack off! Why are you even here? You should be out training!"

He blinked, crumbs of the sugar cookie around his mouth as he pulled the half-eaten treat away. The messiness bothered her, and so she grabbed a napkin from the table to wipe it away.

"You're like a child. Don't inhale your food," she reprimanded cleaning him up and noticing how red his lips were. They were smoother than she expected, and the Cupid's bow of his upper lip captivated her as she saw the subtle, smooth curve of his mouth connect to the beginnings of his straight nose. It was something that she hadn't paid attention to before but now up close, she could appreciate how well suited his nose was for his face, rounded, symmetrical, and not too overpowering. If she were to roam her gaze farther up, she would meet his wide eyes, and she already knew how beautiful his eyes were. His grandfather's Mediterranean genetics were strong in him, but her grandfather Germania's were also equally as noticeable by the lighter shades of copper and hints of hazel rimming around his pupil.

 _If Italy and I are going to have sex, then he would have to kiss me,_ she thought finding it strange to not have appreciated how attractive his features were before. She blushed, tearing her hand away.

She was done cleaning him up and threw away the napkin.

He smiled not detecting anything strange about her behavior. "You're always looking out for me. I really like that about you."

She blushed at the compliment still not used to such positive affirmation. She rapidly tapped his forehead with her finger and his body swayed back and forth like a bobblehead. "Well, I like it when you go to training, idiot!"

"But if you're not working, why do I need to train?" he asked, finding her flush funny. She was so red!

She floundered for an answer. "Because you need it more than I do. You can't afford to miss a day."

Italy's brows creased in confusion. "If we're going to be training, why aren't you in your training gear?"

Germany's mind went back to the conversation she had with her boss. _"Why train when you are going to have a child? Burn all those whorish clothes you call a training outfit."_

"I'm on vacation."

She knew that was a flimsy excuse. Even when she was on vacation, she trained. She hated doing nothing. But because her boss wanted her to wear a corset and heel while doing push-ups of all things, she was rather limited on training as well.

Italy tilted his head and took a bite out of his cookie. He was studying her trying to figure out what could be making her act so strangely.

"But when on vacation you train anyway." He smiled, his face brightening up and his eyes closing as he suddenly came up with the answer.

"Oh, wait I know why you aren't going to train today."

Her heart dropped. _Is he going to initiate the command now...?_

"Today is Sunday!"

Waiting for her to confirm and praise his guess, he swayed so pleased to have come up with the answer all by himself.

She sighed. "Sure. That's why."

_There's no use in rushing into the order. I'm just going to play along for now._

"How long are you on vacation? We should go do something fun today!" he cheered.

"For...for an indefinite amount of time. I don't have to go to work tomorrow."

Italy was done with his cookie, and he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He tugged at her hand pulling her toward him as he stepped back excitedly. "Let's play football then! We haven't played in so long commander!"

Her feet dragged along with his, her gait slow as she followed his tugging.

"Football?" she asked with an undertone of _okay, but why?_

He nodded. "You still know how to play, right?"

"As if it's that easy to forget," she deadpanned. She stopped following him, and Italy slowly let go of his hold on her wrist once they were in the walkway near the entrance.

"Fine. We will play football. I need to change. Find a football to play with while I switch clothing," she conceded.

Italy couldn't believe how nice she was being today. He perked up, Germany's blue eyes glancing to the left to not face him, and he saluted with the wrong hand as always. "Yes, sir!" And then he ran off to go find a ball to play with.

She watched him zip out of the door, and she shook her head. _That_ man was going to have intercourse with her? She doubted he even knew what sex was! Did he fantasize about anything other than food and sleeping? _An order is an order_ , she thought dismayed as her feet led her to her room upstairs. She walked up, her hand grazing the banister as she made it to her room. She locked her bedroom door and opened a drawer to find a more appropriate outfit to wear. Once she was done getting changed and lacing her combat shoes, she heard her door slam open again.

"I got a ball!"

She got up from her bed and grabbed her green cap hanging on the hook. She placed it firmly on her head.

_Well, at least today will be interesting._

* * *

Germany laid on the field of grass breathing heavily and sweating. The hot sun beamed down on them, her eyes burned if looking up for too long due to the sensitivity of her blue eyes, and so she squinted up at the sea of equally blue colors. At this point of the day, she would have taken off her shirt to cool off, but she remembered she couldn't anymore because of Hitler's orders to be decent at all times.

The _one_ time a soldier had come by during her and Italy's training session had to be the day she had taken off her shirt due to sweating so much. She had revealed her black sports bra, and thus there had been nothing to stop someone's eyes from wandering over her body, her breasts. It was unfortunate that the young soldier had swung by the incredibly rare instance she was topless, but she didn't regret doing what she had done, the female body just a body. She had been overheated, and so she did what anyone else would have done. Male soldiers did it all the time when training in the summer months. And since she was a soldier, a commander, and everything confusingly in between, and perhaps more, she had taken off her top to not dehydrate and pass out.

Italy never commented on it because he was more preoccupied with getting oxygen to not collapse on the paved road. Italy's legs for all the running away he did were bizarrely inadequate when sprinting in times of peace. Fear seemed to be his only motivation for running and so when pushed to the limit for the sake of it, he became unglued. So he had other things to think about other than the fact that she had a body surprisingly underneath her clothes.

 _This reminds me of that time I had a heat stroke in Africa when I went to save Italy. He had stripped me down to my tank top to help me cool down. He didn't impulsively ravage me because there was suddenly skin. Perhaps it's not the body that's the problem but more so urges of whoever looks at it,_ she thoughtwhile taking in the sounds of the park.

She pushed herself up to see how Italy was fairing with an easy push on the thighs to stand tall over him. He was also recovering from the game by lying down on the grass while making little _ve~_ noises, but he was clearly happy. He had beaten her as always, Germany only a goal away from making it a tie, and she would admit that he had skill. It was as if all the dexterity was hidden away in his legs — his ability to run, kick, aim, and not trip telling of his talent. Despite Italy's claims of being good at fencing as well, she truly doubted he could hold a sword when he could barely throw a grenade properly. He was good at the things he was passionate about, she supposed, and she couldn't help but be disappointed that war wasn't a stronger interest of his.

She walked over to him and offered her hand down to him to pull him up. He took it, and she easily lifted his entire body with one swing. Italy almost toppled over from the unexpected strength, but he quickly found his footing.

"Good game. You beat me," she congratulated.

Italy smiled brightly while looking into her eyes, his face shining with true joy. Germany's heart stuttered. _Why is he looking at me like that?_

"You were good as always — we need to play more! That was so fun!"

Italy's stomach rumbled loudly, and it was only now that she realized they haven't had anything to eat for hours. They skipped breakfast to play before the midday sun came out, and now well into the evening, Italy's stomach was sure to growl.

"Hey, hey Germany, since you're not working today, can we make pasta today?" he asked, more like begged.

_If pasta is what he needed to get the order done..._

"Okay...we can bloat up with pasta again," she relented, not seeing any reason to deny his wish. She tugged at his curl in warning, Italy stilling from her rapid motions. His thin curl bounced in between her fingers, and his face morphed to one of slight pain, his lip bitten as he shuffled his legs closer.

"But you are not going to make a mess, you hear me! If you're going to make dinner, you have to be clean!"

He bobbed his head up and down rapidly appearing in discomfort. Knowing that whatever it was that this curl did to him, it always made him listen. She stopped tugging when she got a strong, "Y-Yes sir! I'll be very clean!"

She crossed her arms satisfied.

 _This is_ _going perfectly. If things go according to plan, I might be able to execute the order tonight._

"We both reek. First a shower, then food," she decided. Italy was excited about the prospect of food and couldn't make it to the house fast enough. They walked back chatting, Italy easily distracted by beautiful flowers, the scent of food from restaurants, and dogs being walked on the sidewalk. It was nice to discuss more mundane topics with him because now that she was on her hypothetical vacation, her need to have only work-related conversations with him dwindled. Not that Italy ever retained anything she said, business talk going in one ear and out the other with him, but she deluded herself that he would one day listen and implement her lessons.

A group of girls passed by them. They were all blonde like Germany, their hair perfectly curled and fluffy and pretty to the fashion underneath their little hats. They were beautiful girls, and, of course, being the flirt that Italy was, he just had to say hello. Like a dog drawn to a squirrel, he couldn't resist making an impression when there was a group of lively, pretty girls in the market area.

He quickly made his way to the group of girls talking with bags in their hands.

" _Ciao Bellas,_ " he said flirtatiously with a wink. "You're all looking very fine today! My name is —?"

German marched over to the idiot that had traveled at lightning speed across the sidewalk to get to the women. With every stomp, she became more pissed off at him. She yanked by the crook of his arm and dragged him away forcefully with radiating purple waves that were reminiscent of Russia. Italy stumbled back and was taken away by an upset German woman whom the group of girls cowered away from as well.

"GET BACK HERE!" she screamed, scaring the pedestrians around her. Italy blinked as he was dragged away, but he still smiled and waved at the girls. They looked back with a blush and a giggle and this made Italy's face light up. He loved talking to beautiful women! They made everything better!

"Hey, why did you do that?" he asked innocently looking up at Germany's face that always made him think she was constipated.

"They're fifteen," she hissed. "What are you, a cradle robber?"

Italy jolted, and he instantly almost started crying. "Oh no! I looked like a pedobear! Like a creepy, fat Italian uncle at the Christmas party, no one likes! Noooo!"

She let go of his arm, not wanting to bruise him. She didn't know why she was getting so upset. Italy flirted all the time. She shouldn't care. But seeing him smile at those girls didn't feel right. It was because she was protecting her young citizens, she rationalized. She felt some need to look over her people, especially the younger, impressionable girls of her country.

"I know those girls. They're daughters of well-respected generals. They're too young for you," she clarified.

"German girls look a lot older than they really are," Italy thought out loud.

"Besides, why did you think trying to score a date while having grass stains and B.O. was a good idea?"

Italy screamed horrified. "Oh my god! You're right! You really saved me there!" He smiled at Germany so grateful. "You're the best."

She blushed. Why was her heart fluttering? _Are these heart palpitations? Cardiac arrest? Are these signs of a stroke?_ She checked her face. _No, one cheek isn't dropping down. If it's not a stroke then why is my heart beating so fast?_

She coughed into her hand with her ears reddening. "Well, y-you're welcome."

They both saw the house approaching into view, and she became relieved. They made it to the front door, and they stepped in quickly. They took off their shoes and placed them on the front mat.

"I'm going to take a shower," she declared. "You can take a shower or bath in the guest bedroom if you wish."

"Hmm, okay!" He made his merry way to the guest bedroom.

She headed toward the stairs to her room. Once on the second floor, she closed her door slowly and pondered over her next step. She walked toward her closet and yanked the doors open. She stared.

She had ten white shirts. She had ten black shirts. Two green jackets. One black coat. Seven military pants. And one pair of boots.

That was it.

Her closet was pitiful.

Her shoulders sagged. She didn't own dresses, skirts, cute tops, or even anything remotely girly. She could wear the one pencil skirt Hitler made her wear when meeting with him, but that didn't have any sex appeal whatsoever. She needed something enticing, something seen in those black and white films, to excite a man's blood. But what could that be? What was the line between a whore and a vixen?

She crossed her arms and pondered. _What does Bruder like in those porn magazines of his? He likes women with big breasts._ She looked down at her chest. She had a large cup size so she supposed she had one thing down thanks to her genetics. _And he likes them posing with their legs open. Is that the secret to the male libido?_

She didn't think that was quite right. It almost sounded too simple.

 _The girls in those magazines aren't wearing much. They wear tiny little bras and underwear._ Germany placed a finger over her lips in thought. _I need to talk to a sex worker. They usually hang around military bases to attract lonely soldiers. They need to dress decently for the public eye but be risque enough to indicate their profession._

She cursed frustrated with herself. _Dammit! I should have been paying more attention to their attire! I need to replicate it._

She sat herself down on the edge of her bed like a rock, her arms still crossed.

 _I might need to consult France about this._ She immediately refuted that. _He can't even stand to be in the same room as me. He's gotten so dramatic this century._

She crossed France off her list of people that could assist her. France was her ideal candidate to help her out, his country of sex and love, and everything carnal exactly what she needed, but France wasn't viewing the German siblings too favorably right now due to what they did to Paris. Why their boss was fascinated with art, she did not know, but she could understand why he was so upset. But, in Germany's defense, if he were stronger this wouldn't have happened.

She was digressing by thinking about how weak France was. She needed an outfit!

She got back up and looked at her minimalist closet once more. Nothing struck her as dangerous or provocative, and she groaned. She shut the wooden doors and stripped off her clothes.

 _I'll figure this out once I'm out of the shower. I need to get this grime off._ She made her way to her bathroom and turned on the water. She needed to find a solution fast.

Italy meanwhile stepped out dressed expecting Germany to already be in the kitchen. He didn't know how she always managed to take a shower in exactly ten minutes every day and then get dressed in another exact two. Italy took twelve minutes just to get the water warm. And then he stayed in the shower because he was too lazy to get out of the hot water and dry off. Boredom and the lack of social interaction then usually won out, and he zipped through shampooing and conditioning to talk to Germany.

And so when he stepped into the kitchen and didn't see Germany, he poked his head to see if she was in the living room. The living room was clear, and he called out her name.

"Germany?"

She didn't respond, and he panicked.

_Did she get kidnapped?! On no, not naked! Getting kidnapped while naked must be embarrassing to a person like Germany!_

He rushed upstairs to where her room was worried she had died. And it was only when he made it to the top floor that he realized that Germany wasn't dead but instead just still in the shower. He heard the water running more clearly now that he was near her room, and he became relieved.

 _She's been in there for a while,_ he thought, finding it strange when going back downstairs. But as with everything, he didn't think about it long, his short-lived crises forgotten about when he felt his stomach pang in hunger.

_Oh well. Time for pasta!_

And then he jumped down from the final two steps, grinning because Germany didn't like it when he did it, and then he made his way to the kitchen to start making the dough.

Meanwhile, Germany was staring at her razor in the shower with the most intense look she's ever had. She _was_ in a crisis.

 _Should I shave down there?_ she wondered. She looked down in between her legs. _But how?_

Her fingers had pruned from how long she had stood underneath the showerhead, but she couldn't leave hairy. She had alreadyshaved everything else, the standard arms and legs, and whatnot that was easy to remove the visible hair, but if she was going to get naked soon, theoretically tonight, then her ally was going to see her womanhood. And since she was clearly past puberty, she had her bush.

 _But how do I shave it?_ she thought nervously to put such a sharp blade near her vulva. It seemed dangerous and unwise to mess with that area of her body. She didn't want to get an infection or ingrown hairs.

She frowned. _I should have bought a manual when I was in the market. Damnit! I'm unprepared!_

She tried to rationalize it. _Alright, think. This is essentially a vagina beard._

She blanched.

_Why did I call it that? Well, whatever. I should approach this as I should shaving a beard. Going in straight with a razor is only going to hurt. These blades are for getting close to the skin. And so I need to do a close trim. But scissors..._

She cursed. "Agh! I don't have scissors! AND IF I OPEN THE CURTAIN, I'LL GET WATER EVERYWHERE!"

She didn't realize she was yelling until she heard her voice echo above the running water. Her utility bill was going to be awful this month.

 _I have to go get my scissors and trim myself. The things I do for orders!_ she thought stepping out of the bathtub and shivering at the temperature difference. The water ran without her, the jet of water loud since it ricocheted off a porcelain basin, and she hastened her step across the cold tile to not get water droplets all over her floor and mat. She made it to her drawer and pulled out her scissors. She rushed back, but she didn't realize how slipped the floor was from her dripping body.

"Oh shit," she cursed, almost slipping on the floor when she tried running back. She had to hold onto the counter to get her footing back together.

Italy heard a yell, loud thumping and jumping then following from above, and he looked up.

"What is she doing up there?" he wondered, straining the pot with wet noodles in the sink.

Germany made it to the tub again and shut the curtains closed, the water freezing now since she had used all the hot water. She didn't care. She was a woman on a mission.

And somehow, _somehow,_ fifteen minutes later she had done it. She pulled through with trembling hands and lots and _lots_ of patience. Her womanhood was shaved clean with no more hair and other private parts were nicked off as well. Her ally couldn't say she didn't put the effort in. And so if she had to do all this work, he better do his part as well!

She washed away all the hair, bathed herself in strongly scented body wash she purchased (quite expensively she would add) from a couple of days ago all over her body. The scent of vanilla and coconut was incredibly strong and permeating, the saleswoman laying it on thick about how long it lasted and how natural it was and how it was proven to arouse and enhance female pheromones. It sounded like a bunch of garbage to her, but...what if...it did?

(Germany was easily sold as soon as the saleswoman said it guaranteed a man to have intercourse. That was just what she needed!)

Germany stepped out of the shower and grabbed her bathrobe. She wrapped it around her body and tousled her hair to dry with a towel as she turned on the bathroom fan to air out all the steam.

"Germany, dinner's ready!" Italy called from downstairs.

Her eyes widened.

_Already? Making pasta from scratch takes at least an hour! Have I been in the shower that long?_

"I'm coming!" she yelled panicking at what to wear. Anything sexy she wanted to adorn was at a store and not in her closet. Every solution ended up with her having to buy something, and no immediate remedy was available to her other than nudity.

Germany's brain became scrambled as she attempted to put something together from her wardrobe. Everything led back to casual clothing or a military uniform, and she was almost desperate enough to cut her clothes up to make it appear naughtier. But she physically couldn't, Austria's frugalness still deep within her to not waste good fabric for such an inane reason.

Just when she was fretting, she heard screams downstairs.

"AHH! GERMANY! COME HELP! YOUR STOVE IS ACTING WEIRD!"

Hearing Italy in danger left her no time to think as she ripped the door open and flew down the stairs to see what was wrong. Her dog began barking, and her senses became hyperaware, her eyes quickly scanning what was wrong.

Italy was cowering away from her stove and once her dog saw her, he calmed down. She didn't see anything wrong, the kitchen appearing as though a hurricane had just flown by but nothing out of the normal when Italy cooked.

"What's wrong?" she asked, frantically wondering if Italy was seeing something she wasn't.

"Your stove. It's making those weird clicking noises," he trembled, afraid to go near the stovetop. She frowned and walked forward hearing the rapid clicking he was talking about. She turned off all the burners and the noise stopped.

Italy sprung up relieved. "You fixed it and didn't die! Wow, you're really brave! Thank you Germany, you saved my life!"

She sighed, not believing that he had fretted over something so small. "Have you never worked a stove or something? It's just the burner trying to get the igniter to function properly. I thought there was a gas leak!" A vein popped out. "I thought there was something dangerous!" She turned around to scold him on his false alarm.

"You had me worked up over nothing. I thought you were in deep trouble!"

"When my stove exploded, it sounded like that," he admitted having flashbacks to when his kitchen had caught on fire from the small explosion his stove had set off randomly one day while cooking. "I was scared to blow up your kitchen."

Germany couldn't imagine how terrifying it would be to live through a kitchen fire, and for some reason, the thought of Italy's house burning down was a sad thing to imagine.

She placed both her hands on her hips. "When we're done with dinner, I'm going to teach you the parts of the stove so you're not scared of it. Working with gas is nothing to be played with."

It seemed as though this was the first time Italy finally noticed she was wearing nothing but a short bathrobe. In her haste, she hadn't properly tightened the sash to keep the robe from slipping off and so now it slightly opened from when she placed her hands on her hips. The motion was asking to look at her frontally, nothing to cover up her body, and his eyes followed down to the widening v shape of the bathrobe on her chest, the hood loose on her glimmering shoulders. Her body glistened with water, beads of water creating a sheen around her pale, smooth shoulders and clavicle. It took everything in his power to not stare at the sudden reveal of cleavage, where her large breasts touched each other and met. It was difficult when there was a bead of water traveling down her collarbone and into her ample chest. It disappeared in between her breasts, and he felt flustered. Although she wasn't entirely exposed, there wasn't much left to the imagination, her legs long and much more supple than he once thought. And with her hands placed where they were, he could tell around how wide her hips were, how small her waist actually was. It was enough to make him blush slightly and look away.

"Um...aren't you going to get...dressed?"

She was confused for a moment until she realized that she had been so focused on Italy's screaming that she had never put clothes on. It didn't matter what outfit she wore now because she just came down with the most obvious thing possible! If she moved too much, she would flash him everything!

She immediately placed her hands away from her hips and closed the bathrobe to have nothing showing. With a fright, she saw how much of her body had been available to his eyes.

 _Why is this thing so short?!_ Germany thought, turning red.

She coughed and straightened herself out. "No. I'm. I-I am quite comfortable like this." She glanced at the plates served. "I'm hungry. Let's eat."

Not needing an invitation for food, her outfit was forgotten for dinner.

She sat down in her chair and tried to calm down her heart. She had to be confident. She had to seduce him.

When she looked down at her plate she noticed something peculiar. _Did he_ _add wurst to my plate?_ She glanced at his portion. He didn't have any meat.

 _He's always been thoughtful hasn't he,_ she thought warmly. But then her mind went back to the task at hand.

_I have done part one of the operation: dress. Now it is time to commence part two: conversation. Seduction must be treated as a prisoner negotiation._

She stabbed her fork into the meal. "Tell me about your week."

"..."

She didn't hear his usual babbling, and she looked up to see what could have been preoccupying his thoughts. But when she saw what he was doing, her temper rose, her face turning red from something other than embarrassment.

"ITALY!" she shouted to get him to pay attention to her again and not the window behind her.

"Ve!" came the frightened noise when he was snapped out of his reverie or whatever it was that made him zone out.

"I asked you how your week was," she said tightly.

On edge from her tone, he described how his past couple of weeks have been. And as she listened, he loosened up and then talked as he usually did, aimless and inane and seemingly unimportant in the grander scheme of things.

"Romano's been so grouchy lately. He keeps blaming me that I'm the one that made him sick. I'm not the one who made his economy go down, but I really think it was probably those weird tomatoes he got off the black market that made him feel bad. I sent him some of your potatoes but then that made him feel worse, apparently! He's been really mad at me since then, and..."

Germany listened trying to be polite and not interrupt. She commented here and there to show she was listening because her mind was still swirling with slight anxiety. The mission was always in the back of her mind, and as a woman of action, she didn't like anticipation. She would rather just get this over with than keep skirting around the issue.

 _Perhaps this is a new kind of mission,_ she thought as she listened to Italy describe how he wanted to paint something soon, _one that requires cunningness and patience. Anyone can kill. But not everyone can allure._ She tapped her fingers against the table as she thought about it. _Yes! Although in the house, this is still an important military mission! Maybe my boss is on to something!_

She heard the conversation lull, and she realized he had asked her a question.

"Don't you think so?" he asked with his eyes shut.

"Oh, yes. Of course," she answered not knowing what she had said yes to. He brightened up.

"Really? You'll do it?!" he leaned forward not expecting her to be so nonchalant about his request.

Caught, she backtracked. "Wait, what are you getting so worked up about?"

"I didn't think you would say yes to modeling for me," he laughed. "I've been wanting to paint you for months now! And that way we can paint together like we played football today." He was incredibly happy. "That sounds so fun. Now, all we have to do is get Japan to come with us. He's a really good artist too!"

Not wanting to seem as though she was equally ditsy as Italy, she went along with this since she _had_ yelled at him to not zone out half an hour ago. "W-Well, it will serve as good practice. I'm getting prepared," she said factually.

Italy was just confused. "Getting prepared for what?"

She blushed, finding it very improper for him to make her say it out loud. "For tonight!"

Italy stopped chewing. Wait a minute. A barely closed bathrobe...late night activity...Germany smelling really nice and looking really soft... her supposed vacation...suddenly having more money to buy groceries while not getting a promotion...

His heart stopped.

It couldn't be that...!

"Germany, you don't have to be a prostitute!" he wailed with his heart overflowing with sadness. "You can make money some other way!" He clasped his hands together already praying for her soul in Italian. 

Her eyebrow twitched.

"I'M NOT A PROSTITUTE!" she bellowed that he cowered away.

"V-Ve! I'm sorry! It's okay if you're embarrassed! I won't tell anyone, I swear! I'll keep it a secret! But please don't kill me!"

"I'm going to wring your neck out if you keep saying that!" she threatened so tempted to chokehold him. Her aura radiated killing intent, and he was sure her utensil was moments away from snapping into two.

He nodded, shaking. "O-Okay! I'll stop saying it!"

He stopped talking but she knew he was still thinking she was a sex worker. And she couldn't let him keep thinking that.

She sighed, calming herself down. She loosened her hold on the fork. "I'm not a prostitute. I promise you that. I'm not going anywhere tonight. I am not using my body in that way."

He chewed his food while studying her. "If you say so...but you know that if you were to be one, I would keep your secret!"

She lowered her eyes. "How much would you pay for a night?"

"Huh?"

It seemed as though the question made him short circuit a bit. It was a little amusing to see him still, his hand holding on the fork of food loosely as he stared at her with shocked, wide eyes. He tried to glance away from her, but she didn't relent in her gaze.

"If I were actually offering those kinds of services, how much would you pay?" she repeated.

"Um...I don't know...however much you are charging?"

She drank her water. "Interesting. I was curious."

The conversation veered away from that, and soon enough they were done with dinner on a much lighter note. True to his Italian nature, Italy wanted to stay at the table and talk until midnight. Germany always found it strange that he was perfectly okay with being still in one place for hours on end and talking _._ Even when there were lulls in conversation, and she was sure there was nothing else to share, he sprung up something else to get her opinion on. It was admirable in a way, but she knew she couldn't get trapped in spending another two hours here.

She got up from her chair. "Dinner was delicious as always." Her eyes were displeased with the mess all around the countertops. "But you trashed the kitchen."

He laughed nervously. "It's not so bad! Just a little flour... everywhere..."

She gathered the plates and placed them in the sink full of dirty pots and pans. She felt her blood pressure rise, and she muttered.

_For the mission, for the mission, for the mission —_

"You're cleaning this up tomorrow morning," she said sharply. "But in the meantime," she walked away from the countertop and away from the sink. Her heart rose in nervousness. The night was winding down, the moon fully out to leave nothing but darkness outside. They were alone, not a soul to disturb them. It was just what she needed.

She made it to the entrance of the kitchen and turned her head around. "Follow me."

"I don't have to do it right now?" he asked hopefully.

"No. There's something more important," she replied stiffly, authoritatively, moving forward and silently commanding him to follow. He did so, trailing after her, and her shoulder blades tensed with every step. She was about to combust of nerves.

_Tonight is the night. He'll know what's going to happen as soon as we make it to my room._

Italy followed quietly sensing the mood of something about to go wrong, and he internally zipped through the things that could be making her upset with him. Her anxious energy radiated onto him, Germany having no reason to be nervous so, therefore, making him extra nervous, and they both were consumed with their own thoughts and worries.

Italy's lack of chatter furthered Germany's doubt, and they fed off of each other's energy in the worst way.

Once upstairs, Germany made an immediate left to her room. They walked down the hall to finally stand in front of her tall, wooden door, the room Italy was forbidden to go into.

She took a deep breath. She opened the door and let them both inside. Italy walked in after her. She shut the door and held onto the metal handle, the silver becoming hot from her clammy hold.

She eventually let go and locked the door.

It was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Hetalia fic in 2020? The world really is ending. 
> 
> I've been working on this fic for a little bit over half a year now and am super excited to share it. I've always found it sad how there's so little exploration into the female experience of nations (even if this story, in particular, is a genderbend) and decided that if no one else was going to write it, I may as well do so. This fic goes out to my historical nerds out there that love fem! Germany as much as I do and want some seriousness to go along with it. I have the entire plot figured out and almost everything is written out so updates should be pretty fast. 
> 
> I would love to know what you guys think by leaving me a comment! All kudos are loved too! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I'll see you guys in the next chapter :)


	2. And So is the Woe to Find Out

Italy was a child. She swore he was.

"Your room is so nice! Kinda boring for a girl's room though, but that's okay because minimalism started in Germany, didn't it? Very chic. Or maybe just poor. But that's okay because I am too! At least your bed is soft." He bounced on the mattress. "And squeaky!"

She didn't know whether he was insulting her or not but didn't think much about it. She was nervous. She had to initiate first and seduce him...

But she couldn't do that if he kept bouncing. _Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak, squeak, squeaksqueaksqueak_

"Enough! STOP BOUNCING!" she yelled with her nerves on overdrive.

Italy stopped bouncing and sat motionlessly, his palms on the edge of the mattress, and appearing like a scolded child that just wanted to have fun. It made her pang with slight guilt, his eyes dropping down in disheartenment.

"Good." She turned around jerkily. She faced him. "You know what this means, correct?"

Italy thought about it. "No, not really."

She gestured to the mattress awkwardly, at their aloneness.

"We are here for a reason..."

He opened his eyes. "To sleep together?"

She sighed relieved. _So he does know what's going on. He isn't so incompetent._

She nodded. "Yes. I'm glad you understand —"

"Yippie!" he laughed, ripping off his clothes. In an instant, Italy had his shirt and pants off, and Germany was blinded by his exposed skin.

She gave a little scream and covered her eyes.

 _O-Oh my god he's quick! So soon?!_ she thought anxiously. For him to have such eagerness...! He must be a beast!

He lifted the covers of the blanket, and his head met the pillow. He closed his eyes happily.

"Germany's bed is so soft." He inhaled almost drunkenly. "And it smells so nice." He gave a dopey smile.

She backed away unsure of this procedure.

 _I-Is this how couples do it? Underneath the blanket?_ Her gaze burned down at him. _Well, I suppose it does give us the most privacy. But won't it get hot? And isn't the point of us having intercourse to see the other's body?_

Her brain went through a thousand simulations, her head almost emitting steam from the malfunction she was processing.

 _Should I start kissing him? Do I strip as well? He's not even looking. I should get underneath the covers as well I suppose,_ she decided incredibly out of her element. She continued to ruminate over the problem, and she finally got her answer.

_Okay. I've retreated and strategized. It is now time to attack. I am going to kiss him. Then he will get erect. Then he will procreate inside of me. Perfect. Step one kissing._

She opened her eyes and mustered the courage to see what he was doing.

He fell asleep.

She stared at him. Her eyes bored into his face, and she almost gaped.

_H-He fell asleep?! WHAT?!_

Germany groaned and fell to her back. She placed the back of her hand over her forehead and shut her eyes.

_Tonight was a failure. All I managed to get was a food baby._

Italy turned around to his side and faced her. She took her hand away and turned her cheek left to come face to face with him. Now up close, she could study his features more carefully.

He seemed peacefully asleep, the sanguine nation naturally also at ease when deep into dreams. He breathed evenly in and out, his chest rising and falling carefully as he made little noise.

_For a person always gorging down carbs, his face doesn't have much fat on it. His jawline is sharper than I would imagine._

She almost ran her fingers across his exposed jawline, his neck and the angle in which he placed his cheek against the pillow stretching the skin across his natural bone structure. She merely wanted to study his features but she pulled her hand away before curiosity made her do something she would regret.

 _I'm not sure whether he shaves or not, but I don't recall ever seeing a time when Italy had hair._ She looked up at the wall in wonder. _Other than France, I don't think I've ever seen a nation have a beard. Is it genetic or do they all keep it shaved?_ She looked back at Italy.

 _Italy with a beard._ The image was too funny to her. She couldn't imagine wimpy little Italy with a beard or mustache. Maybe he would have a cheesy little mustache like she saw most Italians have, and the thought of him growing any hair almost made her laugh. It just wasn't him. That would make him appear actually manly and that was strange in itself. Although perhaps with a five o'clock shadow he would look nice...

She pondered some more. _I know that Bruder grows facial hair, but he doesn't keep his beard because his hair is so white. I know male nations once past puberty also grow hair just as female nations grow breasts and go through menstruation._

_If he did have facial hair, I would see the dark area where his beard grows since his hair is so dark. But I don't. So maybe he has scraggly hair that he shaves._

She sighed. _This is pointless to think about. Tonight was a complete bust. I need to restrategize for tomorrow. For now, I should sleep._

She settled on her side of the bed away from him and rose the blanket up to her chin. Her eyes quickly became heavy, and before she knew it, she fell asleep.

Little did she know that throughout the night, she had scooted closer to Italy and they had slept peacefully together.

But, of course, if you told that to Germany, she would just deny it.

* * *

Days passed and soon enough Italy had to leave. He was still an active soldier that couldn't just meander around as much as she could, the state of the war now making them busier than they had been years ago, and so with a heavy heart, Italy had to leave her house to go where his boss ordered him to go.

"Your vacations are only around a week-long, aren't they. You'll be back in the field soon too won't you?" he asked, feeling better that he wasn't the only one going to be busy.

Something thick settled in her throat. She hadn't been able to pull it together all week and accomplish her mission, and when wallowing in shame and guilt, she felt as though it was only right to tell him the truth.

She gave him a sad look. "I'm not your commander anymore. I've been decommissioned. I won't be going to any more battles, and I'm no longer your leader. You're going to have to go alone, soldier."

He seemed hopelessly lost. "What?"

She turned her cheek. "I have to stay here at the house. It's an order. So you go on ahead. I'm sure there will be another commander there to take my place."

"But they're not Germany," he said as if she was truly irreplaceable. She gave him a fierce look.

"Italy leave. You're going to be late." She shoved him out the hall by pushing him on the back. "Go on."

He resisted by dragging his heels into the floor and causing friction to stop her forceful shoves. He was surprisingly strong to keep himself planted on the floor when she was trying to get him out the door. She stopped pushing and frowned.

"You're going to be late," she said displeased. He turned around to face her.

"I don't get it. Why did they decommission you? You're not a general anymore? What are you going to do here by yourself all day?" he asked worried about her getting lonely.

She glanced around the house. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be doing either, her mind stuck in an awful limbo of restlessness and acceptance.

"That is not your concern. You worry about yourself. You need all the training you can get so go!" she barked.

"Did you fight with your boss? When will you be back? Did you do something bad?" he couldn't help but uselessly prod.

"Italy, stop acting as if you don't know!" she finally snapped. She hated how much he kept rubbing it in. She despised this situation more than he could ever know.

He was incredibly confused. "What do you mean?"

She gave him a hard look. "The order."

"Um...what order?"

"The order!" she emphasized with red tinting her cheeks.

His palm met her forehead, the warmth of his hand touching her heating skin. He flipped it over, and she felt his knuckles briefly before he touched her cheeks as well with growing concern in his amber eyes. She could count the number of times Italy was actually serious with less than one hand, and she didn't know what to do when he was adding another instance into her memory. His hands were larger than she expected when she realized that his palm could fit most of the side of her face and forehead. If he wanted to, he could cup her cheek and hold her in place. He pulled away not having the answer he wanted.

"You're not sick. But you're so red! Are you coming down with something? Is that why you have to stay inside?"

She grabbed his wrist tightly, her own slim hand gripping into his bone where she demanded his attention on her. She dug into his wrist so that he understood.

"Italy. I am not sick. I did not do anything bad. I am not in trouble. I am following my boss's orders. You are aware of them, are you not?"

He seemed anxious. "Um...am I supposed to?"

She was floored. "WHAT!"

He jolted. "Ve, what order? What are you talking about? Why are you yelling?!"

"YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW?!"

He shook his head no rapidly. "Is it bad? Is it serious? Should I know? Is there another war happening?"

Germany was about to pull her hair out. "I can't believe you don't know! When was the last time you spoke with your boss?"

Italy thought about it. "Oh, let me see! Hmmm, maybe two weeks ago? I was supposed to go to a meeting with your boss a couple of days ago but I got sleepy and so I took a nap in the lobby instead while your boss and mine talked!"

She furrowed her brows. "Did your boss not inform you about the meeting?"

He scratched his cheek. "I think he did but I wasn't listening."

She throttled him on the verge of throwing him out the window. "What do you mean you weren't listening?!"

"Don't be mad at me, Germany! The car was really warm and toasty, and it was quiet, and there was a nice ray of sun by the passenger's seat, and Mussolini had woken me up from my nap which made me really sleepy and groggy anyway, and it was two o'clock in the afternoon, siesta time, and I was hungry! My blood sugar was low! I couldn't focus!"

"What are you, diabetic?!" she yelled, letting go of her hold on his neck to instead shake him by the collar. "This is why you don't take naps all day long! Your government is a mess! Your military is a mess! YOU'RE A MESS!"

Italy was getting dizzy. "I know, I know! I'm sorry! Please stop shaking me!"

She did and let go. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"So you're telling me that you've been completely unaware of your new orders for five days now."

He fixed his collar pouting. "I didn't think they were that important. Mussolini says a lot of things are important when they aren't really."

"This time they were!"

"Can you tell me what it is then? Are my orders hard?"

 _The question is more like can you get hard._ Her face bloomed red again. _I am not going to tell him! He should know!_

"Go ask your boss. I am not explaining it to you."

"Noo, tell me the order! I want to know!" he begged, not wanting her to be mad at him.

She whipped her head around. "This is what you get for being so irresponsible."

Italy was about to say something but then the phone rang. An anxious metallic ring interrupted them, and Germany marched over to the black dial phone sitting on the small, wooden table near the entryway. She tried not to let her surprise show. Ever since she was let go, no one has called her.

"Hello?" she answered, pressing the cold receiver against her ear.

"Hello, _Signora_ _Germania_. Is Italy there with you?" Italy's boss asked almost rushed.

"Yes, he is here," she responded surprised to hear his voice of all people, glancing at Italy's figure walking toward her.

"Pass me to him," she heard him say quickly. Italy was next to her and so she passed the receiver to him. "It's your boss." Italy took the phone dreading the call, and she walked away to not invade his privacy. Italy quickly began to talk in Italian anyway, so she couldn't drop in and snoop even if she wanted to.

She was curious as to what Italy's boss would need in such urgency to call her residence. Mussolini normally would just send a letter if he needed Italy back that desperately, but it seemed as though something was more pressing. She tried to make out any cognates from Italy's speech to at least garner a sliver of knowledge about the war. She hated having to rely on bowdlerized newspapers and dull radio hosts late in the evening. She missed the feeling of being at work and contributing to the war effort. It made her truly restless to do nothing all day.

She busied herself by cleaning the kitchen since Italy made supper last night. As per usual, he left pots and pans all over the place with crumbs all over the floor. The kitchen was a catastrophe of dishes and stains, and she couldn't stand it for a moment longer. She went to the closet and got her cleaning gear. She tied her white cleaning apron and bonnet still hearing Italy's faint voice converse down the hall.

She walked back into the kitchen and tidied up. Five minutes later, she heard Italy set down the phone. She quietly walked back out into the hall and saw Italy's hand still over the black receiver, his hold yet to let go as he looked down thinking about something. He seemed awfully serious about something, troubled, and it was a strange sight to see him distraught. It was a rare moment of seriousness and silence that didn't settle right.

He quickly noticed her, however, and looked up. When he saw her, his face returned back to normal and the worry from before melted away. It was such a fleeting moment, that she wondered if she had actually seen him sad.

"Was it something urgent?" she inquired knowing she was getting distracted.

Italy scratched his head looking sheepish. "Ve, my boss wants me back as soon as possible. He has a _super_ important thing to talk to me about apparently and wants me to hurry up."

"Do not leave him waiting then. I'm just going to be here cleaning the mess you made." She walked toward him and escorted him to the door so that he wouldn't put this off longer. "Now that you see just how pressing matters are, it's even more pertinent that you get going before the train leaves you."

He seemed stuck at the door.

He was only a step away from leaving her house and going back to base where he needed to be, but he couldn't seem to drag his feet off her front step.

"You're going to be late. You're expected for your report in a couple of hours," she told him sternly with her arms crossed.

He seemed glum. "I wish I could've spent more time with you. Now that you're not a commander anymore, we're not going to see each other as often."

"You're never going to win the war if you stay here all day," she reminded. "Work now, play later."

"Yeah, I guess not..."

She tilted his jaw upward. "This is no time to be doubtful. Chin up, soldier. You'll be back before you know it." She looked away. "We still need to paint together. So don't be an idiot if you want that to happen."

A breeze passed by, and they looked into each other's eyes for a moment.

 _This feels strangely domestic,_ she realized at the intonations of her bidding him goodbye on her doorstep as she wore her apron and bonnet.

He smiled, his mood uplifted when she told him this. She took her hand away slowly and stepped back. She knew Italy, and he could drag on departures for hours on end if she allowed him.

"You need to be going now. Your men are waiting for you."

He processed her words with something else on his mind, his hands reaching toward his neck below the collar of his shirt. He loosened his tie slightly, and she watched curiously.

He unclasped the German cross necklace she had given him and took it off his neck, the silver chain pooling in his palm as he held his hand open. She had almost forgotten she had given that to him to seal their Pact of Steel in 1939, what seemed like forever now in the four years that have passed since then. She hadn't been aware he wore it every day underneath his uniform. Her cheeks colored slightly when realizing that he cherished that gift so carefully.

"I'm going to come back to you Germany. Because you're right! We still have to paint together, and the only way to do that is by doing all the unfun things first. I'll protect our houses the best I can, so hold onto this for me for when I come back."

She was quiet for a moment.

"You are aware that the only people who can wear this necklace are those that have displayed great bravery in battle, right?" she asked wondering if he knew how special this necklace truly was. "It's a high honor to wear this." She clasped it in her hand, her fingers warming the metal from the heat of her skin. "Therefore, you can only have it back once you have demonstrated great bravery, soldier."

He was fine with that. He saluted and perked up. "I'll make you proud, Germany!"

She corrected him mirthfully. "Wrong hand." Now with the correct form, she did think he looked rather handsome in his uniform. "There. Be safe, Italy."

Italy rushed over to her and hugged her, his chest meeting hers in a flush that left her feeling overheated and almost overwhelmed. She should be used to his hugs, but she couldn't help but notice that he always smelled so nice, was always gentle when he touched her. Even when she froze up, it didn't bother him. 

He pulled away unbothered and smiled at her. "I'll be back, don't worry! We can have a lot of fun after I'm done talking to my boring boss!"

 _Then we can have a lot of fun?!_ she thought glowing red at the innuendo.

He let go and turned around. He practically ran out the door, and she had to know if he was ignoring the topic of the order now that he had been told over the phone.

"Do you know what your order is?" she shouted before he left her driveway.

He almost jumped up. "Oh no I forgot to ask!" He turned around and waved at her hoping she wouldn't sock him. "I'll do my order, don't worry! You can count on me! I'll do it as soon as I come back!"

She blushed and gripped onto the towel she was holding.

" _Ci sentiamo!_ " he departed in Italian.

She watched him go for a moment before shutting the door and relishing in the silence. The kitchen clock ticked, and she was alone in the house. She walked away from the entranceway, her mind still on him, and she glanced down at the necklace in her hand. Her eyes lowered.

_I would have also had this if my boss hadn't taken it away from me._

She sighed. What he left was a blushing, muttering Germany walking back to the kitchen and wishing that idiot knew what he was talking about for once.

* * *

He hadn't actually needed to get on a train.

There was someone there to pick him up a couple of minutes after he rushed off of Germany's property to head to the nearest station.

The ride to Rome was long. His driver wasn't akin to a conversation, a staid character even more serious than Germany, and Italy had given up on making small talk an hour in. Bored, he took his sketchbook out and made a mental note to go buy a new one soon. The pages were becoming yellow in their use and inching toward ripping off the spine. He searched for a clean page and settled on something in the back, Italy creasing the leather and pulling out a random pen he found lying around in the cabbie. His hand absentmindedly began sketching faces, Romano's face popping up first as he approached Rome. Veneziano hasn't seen his brother in a couple of weeks, the exercise to sketch his face from memory fun as he kept on drawing him with angry eyebrows and the permanent scowl on his face.

And without realizing it, he started drawing Germany. He remembered her features as though she was still in front of him, her eyes always expressive and wide as to what she was feeling. She tried concealing what she was thinking, but with such an honest and straightforward personality such as hers, she didn't have much in her to lie. It was endearing, the guileless nature of her personality fascinating to study as he observed her. Everything was always seen through her blue eyes, and as he sketched the memorized shape, he wondered how she was doing. He didn't want her to be lonely, the thought of her alone in that large house of hers with no one to talk to sad to imagine, and so he drew Germany smiling. He had caught a glimpse of it that morning when he had eaten the sugar cookie, and it had made his chest feel a certain way when seeing her lips curl up in such a charming way. He wanted to remember her this way always, and he tilted his head dragging his pen to finish the subtle curve of her chin.

She was pretty, Italy had always thought. Even if she did not value aesthetics as much as he did, the first time he had laid eyes on her, he had thought she was a beautiful woman. Even back in 1916 when she had a gun pointed to his face, he couldn't help but think how odd it was to such a pretty face to be in a military uniform. It was something that he thought was a clever ruse, a trick perhaps to lower his guard because who could resist a beautiful woman when so deprived in the trenches, but instead, she had simply let him go because he was being so pathetic. She hadn't believed him to be the descendant of Ancient Rome, and that had allowed him his life.

As he drew her sitting down, he couldn't help but think back to the dinner from a week ago.

Nude women were nothing new to him, but what he had seen wasn't just some random woman's body. It had been Germany's. It shouldn't make a difference since a human body was just a body, nakedness familiar, but he couldn't help but think back to her long legs that curved to thickened, soft thighs. Her small robe barely covered her wide hips, a bottom heaviness that didn't match the small cinch of her stomach that led his face up to her slightly exposed breasts. If she had moved just a little bit more, her robe would have fallen down her shoulders. And with the way, the water dripped down her scented skin...

To not let the memory go, he drew her as he remembered her when she had been sitting down in front of him. If he didn't draw it, he would forget it. To be drawn was to be immortalized, and with his pen, he traced the image of Germany on paper. He wondered what had been going on in her head at the time, and a sunray filtered through the window to temporarily cause his eyes to squint.

As they traveled south on narrow, winding roads, they passed mountains and fields, the scenery beautiful in the green all around them, and he wondered for a moment if there could ever be a future where he and his brother could get along. Even when unified in war, they were fragmented.

Only in his art could he have the two people he treasured greatly in the same place. He knew that it was nothing more than a daydream to imagine Romano and Germany getting along, let alone all three of them tolerating each other when Romano didn't like him or Germany at all. It was a shame, Italy thought somewhat sadly looking down at the pages of portraits he had done.

He shut his notebook closed once done with the image of Germany and settled his head against the window. Drowsiness lurked in his body, and he lowered his eyes watching the scenery roll by. It was calming, faces blurring, animals walking, grass swaying until his eyes slowly closed.

They'll be there soon enough...

* * *

Italy arrived in Rome sleepy, the car ride to the capital long and silent. He lazily woke up, slowly opening his eyes and yawning at the mid-afternoon nap that had taken over. He didn't know how the driver was still alert, but he was swiftly getting out of his seat to open the door. Italy stepped out of the vehicle yawning again. He was hungry and not looking forward to being in a boring discussion with his boss.

"Come this way, Mr. Italy," his driver instructed, leading them up to Mussolini's office, the sound of the city surrounding his ears at the buzz of Rome. The _Palazzo Braschi_ loomed over him, the words of _Si, Si_ on the facade forgotten as soon he walked in. The cool nature of being inside made him shiver. They made it to the top through winding stairs and this was as far as the driver could lead him. He saluted to him since he was still considered a military official, and Italy just smiled, still not used to it.

He knocked while saying, "It's me Veneziano Italy, sir."

He was let in and was surprised to see that this was not going to be a personal meeting between him and his boss. It was a conference, and his older brother was sitting right next to Mussolini with his arms crossed.

His boss was happy to see him meanwhile his brother burned daggers into his soul as he walked across the room. "Oh, Veneziano, you're finally here! You got here just in time. Take a seat."

He did so next to his boss, a spot saved for him in the rounded table in the thick silence. The atmosphere was heavy, and he shifted uncomfortably at the piercing, fiery gaze of Romano's eyes into his figure from across the wooden table. Reasons for why he could be mad zipped through his head. Had he done something wrong lately? Why did he hate him more than usual today?

 _I wish I were at Germany's instead_ , he thought, already missing her.

" _Il Duce_ , if we don't do something soon, they are going to begin causing havoc on the streets," he zoned into what his officials say since he had come into the meeting late apparently.

"Veneziano, you still believe in the cause, don't you?" his boss demanded.

"The cause for what?"

"The war. You're not having second thoughts about the war, are you?"

"No," he replied just confused. "Why would I be? We're fighting to beat America and the Allies."

Mussolini's disapproving gaze settled on Romano who seemed ready to snap his head off. "You're the only one who can't keep your people under control. Why is it that you always have to cause trouble?"

"He and I are nothing alike!" Romano seethed.

"And that's the problem now isn't it?!" Mussolini snapped enraged, Veneziano's eyes widening at the tension that had been boiling before he arrived. He desperately wanted to leave because just as how a child shuffled in the middle of an argument between two angry parents, he soaked in their choler in anxiety.

"If you don't get your act together, you're going to ruin this for everyone!" Mussolini yelled. "You don't see Veneziano's people rioting!"

"Probably because America isn't bombing the living shit out of him! Where do you think your food comes from, huh? Out of your fucking ass?!"

 _No, but I am being bombed by Britain_ , Italy wanted to say but didn't. He knew his brother was grieving over the fact that Rome was getting destroyed while his heart, Venice, was still untouched. He must be furious to be cursing at their boss like this.

"Italy, Romano, leave the room," Mussolini ordered. Italy gulped. He didn't want to be alone with his brother when he was so mad at him.

But orders were orders and they both left, Italy feeling guilty and scolded although he had sat down in the meeting for a total of two minutes. Romano shoved the chair out of the seat and stormed out, Italy wondering why he had to be dramatic sometimes to cause such a scene. They left and shut the door quietly.

It was silent in the hallway and Romano's glorified time out wasn't making him any easier to deal with as he fumed in place.

"I don't even know why you're here," Romano was the first to say sharply. "This meeting wasn't supposed to involve you."

"I was told to come immediately yesterday. I don't know why I was supposed to be here either," he replied, trying to not let Romano's mood get to him.

"Yeah, whatever." His arms were still crossed. He looked at him without moving his body. "So you're really still all for this bullshit war?"

"I mean it would be nice for it to end, but we still have to fight," he responded. "Besides, we have a pact with Germany and Japan. We're not alone in this! We can't just leave them."

Romano almost laughed. "Right! Of fucking course, you can't leave Germany alone. It's too good now not to."

Again, Italy was just confused. "What do you mean?"

Romano almost growled. "Oh fuck off! You were just at her house, weren't you?"

He smiled. "I was! Me and Germany were hanging out because she was on vacation!"

He didn't want to tell Romano that Germany actually wasn't on vacation. He sensed something off about all of this.

Romano's eyebrow twitched. "Yeah, I'm sure you were. Having a shit ton of _fun_ weren't you."

Italy nodded glad to see him understand. "A lot of fun! She and I played football and then went to the park and then ate pasta and had dessert — she gave me a sugar cookie by the way! — and then —"

"I don't give a fuck so shut up. No one wants to hear about your personal whore," Romano flicked him off, not wanting to hear any of it.

Italy was shocked. "Romano, what the hell is wrong with you? Germany isn't a whore. Don't be such an asshole," he said seriously at his insult. His brother should know better than to say something so awful about a woman like that.

"With the new order, that's basically what she is," he griped toning it down a bit and sounding a little contrite. He didn't say sorry because he never apologized. He made up for his words by just not saying something so mean the moment after.

"What new order?"

"The order," Romano emphasized.

Italy's eyes shifted. "Um...what order?"

"From the meeting a week ago!" Romano stared at him as though he was crazy. "You were there when he told us."

 _"You mean you've been unaware of your order for five days now?!"_ he remembered Germany's voice through his head.

"Oh wait, Germany said something similar! I don't remember what it is, though. She said it was something really, really important. Do you know what it is?" he asked, relieved to find out what Germany had been so flustered about.

Romano's face morphed. "Are you fucking kidding me? You really don't remember?"

He smiled. "Nope!"

"What have you been doing all this time then?!"

"Hanging out with Germany? Japan isn't back yet," he answered, not knowing why this was so shocking.

"Oh my god," he muttered. "Why did I expect anything less."

"Can you tell me what's so important?"

The meeting ended and then the doors opened. Officials walked out in their uniforms and discussed details among themselves without paying them much mind. They moved out of the entrance's way, and Romano was done with the conversation as he gave him the eye.

"Romano, come inside. I have something to speak to you about," Mussolini instructed, still sitting down.

Romano muttered not wanting to go in but obeying. Because no one was answering his question, he poked his head inside the meeting room. He held onto the door frame as he searched for his boss's stern face.

"Mr. _Il Duce_ Mussolini, sir, so sorry to interrupt but I completely forgot about my order! What do I have to do again?"

"Your order?" he probed for clarification. He had lots of them.

Italy nodded rapidly. "The one Germany's boss told you to tell me. I forgot!"

"Oh, that one," Mussolini frowned. "Your mission is to..."

And with Romano's analytical gaze on him, all Italy could think by the end was _what?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys thought it was going to be that easy? Italy is the CEO of not taking a hint. Poor Germany. But don't worry, things are going to pick up soon. 
> 
> I really appreciate everyone who has commented and left me kudos. It means a lot! Thanks for reading and make sure to leave a review to let me know what ya'll think about this chapter. I'll see you all in the next one!


	3. And So in the Denial There is Hope

Germany stormed out of the National Socialist Women's League office in Berlin clenching onto her forms.

_I can't believe I can't work in a factory! He put me on a blacklist!_

She clenched her papers so tightly her hands turned red.

 _They stared at me as though I was a criminal. I may as well be exiled. There are never enough laborers and yet my dumbass boss is denying me the chance to help him in the war. Does he want to lose? Is he that stupid?!_ she seethed still remembering the humiliation from when she had been bluntly shut down and manhandled out by security in front of everyone.

_Just this January he declared all women under fifty to report for work assignments to help the war effort. There are women right now in farms and factories and yet he's still making me go through with this order?! He knows he's losing!_

She loosened the hold on her documents.

 _What am I going to do now? I've applied to every job a woman can do. The last thing I can think of is applying to a university again for the sake of being busy but my master's degree is the last thing I need,_ she thought moodily. She slowed down her pace as she neared the train station. As she bought tickets for Frankfurt, she became disheartened at her denial of work.

When she boarded the train to go back home, the reality of her situation settled. Her boss was completely serious. He wanted her to be nothing more than a woman who spread her legs. She was no longer a person but merely a piece of propaganda for a poster.

To be thought of as an object stung, and it made her wonder if he ever cared for any of her military accomplishments.

The ride from Berlin to Frankfurt was going to be a long one, and she sat down in her seat tired. She looked out the window putting her briefcase down as she waited for the other passengers to settle in. 

_Even if I wanted to apply to a university, I doubt I would be allowed in. I'm essentially a criminal._

Ten minutes passed by, and after one last call, the train began to move. Germany sat alone in her seat. She said goodbye to the city.

 _If my boss is serious_ _about this order, then he isn't going to be content with just one child. He wants every woman to have a minimum of four children. I have all the qualities of a perfect woman to him except for the family._

Her brows creased in thought. _But why now of all times? This kind of sexism would have made more sense at the beginning of the war. Now with men low, morale decreasing, and laborers needed, I don't understand why he wants a baby from me. He knows better than anyone what I'm capable of. So what exactly is he after?_

She wasn't one to plot conspiracy theories. She found that kind of thing a waste of time because she worked off of logic and presented evidence. Many things in life could be twisted. But because she couldn't shake off the feeling of something being awry, she ran through a hypothetical scenario of her future because something about this didn't feel right.

_Let's say I do have this baby. And to have a fixed variable in this equation, the baby is a healthy boy. Italy is the father. Because of the war, Italy can't stay and raise the child with me. Italy also can't marry me. I'll be a single mother, and that's something even Hitler would know is deeply shameful for a woman. My reputation would be even worse than it is now if I were to be seen with a baby but with no husband._

Because all her boss cared about was appearance.

There was a stomach pang. She was getting hungry, the lull of the train almost pulling her to sleep. She still had five more hours to go until she was home.

A startling thought passed. _Is he going to send me to the Lebensborn?_

The realization of that made her sit up straight.

_No, he wouldn't. Himmler created the Lebensborn to accommodate single mothers during pregnancies. He wouldn't send me to a maternity home._

Her hands became clammy.

_But why wouldn't he? In that scenario, I would have no husband. I would have no work. Himmler checks for racial purity before allowing mothers in, and if the child looks like me, there would be no reason to not get accepted. In there I would be under Hitler's full control. I would be a perfect example for other mothers. The baby would then be adopted into an SS family. And the cycle of pregnancy would begin for another baby..._

She wanted to laugh the assumption away. It was just so ridiculous! Surely, surely her boss wasn't going to enslave her like that. He...wasn't _that_ crazy, was he?

_Even if he was, I still do not see the point of doing this now. In 1939 I wouldn't have been surprised. But at this point in the war, it just doesn't make sense. Is he that desperate to have a country full of infants?_

She thought about it for hours, and it made the long trip much quicker. She arrived in Frankfurt not even realizing it, and she boarded off the train with her papers to walk back to her house. The sun was setting, the day gone from commuting and arguing, and the heels of her shoes tapped along the summer evening.

 _Maybe Bruder sent something,_ she bleakly hoped knowing that he hadn't. He never wrote to the house because usually, she wasn't at the house either. She wasn't sure if her orders have reached his ears yet, but she doubted they had making it useless to hope for word. 

She sighed entering her house but when she heard Blackie bark in excitement at her arrival, she became lighter. At least he would always be there, her young dog still bouncing with energy to greet her at the door.

"Did you miss me?" she asked sweetly squatting down and scratching behind his ears. He panted and turned his head for more, and she kept talking to him since no one was home anyway. "Did you have fun by yourself here? It's not fun to be alone, is it? I'm sorry, I had to go do something important in the city. We can play now. You've been a good boy. You're a very good boy. We can do a lot of fun things together now," she promised, proud for her dog to be so well-behaved alone in the house without his kernel for the eight hours that she was gone. He was craving attention, she could tell by the way his tail wagged at the promise of playing.

She petted his hair and got up. "People in the city are assholes. You're lucky you're a dog. You could be a war nurse if you really wanted to." She became amused and looked down at her dog watching her. "You would be the best nurse."

He circled around her then walked away. Germany hung her coat and saw him settle into his bed in the living room. He lied down and observed, and she wondered why he wasn't bouncing on his feet to be fed. He certainly must be hungry at this point. She set for the stairs to put away her documents, and when she opened the door to her room, she almost let out a scream.

Italy was sleeping on her bed.

She placed a hand over her chest as soon as she got over the fact that there was someone in her room. She could feel her heartbeat through her ears at the shock, the silence of the room eery by how peacefully he slept, and she quietly made her way to the drawer to store away her documents. She didn't want to wake him, but she creased her brow as to why he decided to sneak into her room and take a nap. Her cheeks colored.

 _It's a good thing he was asleep when I came home. He didn't hear me talking to Blackie,_ she thought glad to have no one witness her baby her dog. If only she had been ordered to raise puppies. Now _that_ was something she would gladly obey. But instead, he wanted a human. And that wasn't as great.

She was about to sneak away and go entertain Blackie with his much-needed walk when he began shuffling. She looked over and prayed he wasn't waking up yet, her need to decompress high from the stressful day. Her prayers weren't heard, and he slowly got up from the bed. He blinked, getting adjusted to the light and rubbing at his eyes.

"Germany, is that you?"

She shut the creaking drawer carefully and turned around. "What are you doing in my room? How are you back so quickly?"

He brightened at the sound of her voice.

"Germany! You're back! The last time I was here, you let me sleep on your bed and it's a hundred times better than the one in the guest room so I came over to take a nap but you weren't here so I waited for you to come back home. I fed Blackie since he sounded hungry and took him out for a walk. He's so cute and well trained! Nothing like those scary dogs by the fence!"

He spoke so fast that she had a hard time deciphering what he said. It was almost as if he was scared she was going to beat him. 

"You decided to sleep on my bed because it was comfier?" she clarified, still trying to process the fact that he was at her house again and not in some fort.

He nodded, swinging his legs over. "Sleeping in your bed is a million times better. It's so comfortable and soft. I thought you would have slept on a brick."

Again, she wasn't sure if that was an insult or not. But she was too drained to get too worked up over it. 

"Thank you for feeding Blackie," she said now realizing why her puppy wasn't jumping in anxiety. "When did you come over?"

"Around three. Where were you?"

"I was in Berlin," she explained. "I needed to get some documentation settled in the city," she lied.

And then he asked the question she had hoped she could have avoided. "Is that why you're wearing a skirt?"

Germany had really thought wearing a freshly pressed women's uniform would make her blend in with the other secretaries. She believed that if she showed them that she was serious in maintaining her feminine role, blending in with the others in nude stockings and Mary Janes, they would accept her. Her résumé was perfect, and she, as much as she detested it, fit the look they wanted. There should have been no reason to deny her, but no one would dare defy an order from the _Führer_ himself. 

"I was just about to change," she said embarrassed. She shuffled her feet realizing how girly she must have appeared right now.

He studied her, and she got red at his gaze. She didn't want him to look at her like this. Knowing that his eyes were on her made her feel strangely self-conscious. Her heart skipped a beat in nervousness, and she wondered why she felt this way. It was just Italy.

 _But it's Italy,_ her mind emphasized.

"You look pretty," he complimented. "You should wear skirts more often."

His simple words made her chest flutter. She placed a hand over her collarbone trying to contain the butterflies in her ribs.

_He likes me like this?_

She ripped her hand away. _Who cares what Italy thinks. It doesn't matter. He's a flirt,_ she refuted weakly with her mind racing.

"This is the only time you'll see it, so consider it your lucky day." She took him by the back and pushed him along. "I need to change so out you go."

"You should pick out something nice," he said easily enough. "Because we're going out to eat."

She wasn't sure why he was being adamant about going out. "Right, right. I'll wear my finest silk. Behave yourself while I change." She shut the door and finally had privacy. She turned around and walked to her closet inspecting her clothes with a scrupulous eye. She had nothing formal to wear as always and worried as she shifted through hangers on the metal beams. Their clicks did little to comfort her as she slid and searched for the elegancies she didn't have.

 _If we're going out, I should wear something nice. I don't want to look plain,_ she thought in dismay. _If Italy likes this skirt, maybe I should wear one out —_

She slammed the wardrobe doors shut. "This is ridiculous. Am I actually thinking about wearing a skirt for him because he made an off-hand comment about it? Get it together."

She changed into what she would have normally worn out (for in case he was serious which she knew he wasn't but for _in case —_ she didn't actually secretly hope it was true, of course). She didn't understand why people were so against women wearing trousers, she thought tucking her white blouse in. Pants on women could be a fashion statement.

She washed her face and freshened up before walking out the door. She made her way downstairs to see what Italy had gotten himself up to. She didn't find him in the living room or kitchen, Blackie napping in the same spot she had found him in, and she now wondered what was really going on in that head of his.

"Italy, where are you?" she called throughout the house.

She heard the faint sound of the shower running and answered her own question. She headed toward the kitchen and looked down at her lazy dog. He gazed up at her with his large, black eyes, and she squatted down to pet him. He always calmed her down, and the promise of head scratches perked him right up.

"You're a spoiled dog, aren't you?" She ran her hands through his hair and to feel how his warm body breathed and moved underneath her touch. He wanted to lick her face, his tail wagging, and she played with him while she waited for Italy to be done.

"He's a lot more energetic than before," she heard Italy's voice say behind her. She ordered Blackie to stay with a slight jolt in how easily he came up without her noticing.

She turned around to see what he was up to, and she watched him adjust his watch. That was what caught her attention first, and for some reason, the sight of his forearm suddenly became very distracting. His white sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, perhaps to just have space while he buckled on his heavy, silver watch, and she couldn't help but stare at his fingers that nimbly manipulated the leather strap.

"Have you eaten?"

"No," she replied to snap herself out of the trance. "I'm starving."

"Let's go out to eat then!" he suggested smiling.

She looked at him quizzically because he couldn't actually have been serious from before. "As in to a restaurant?"

"Yeah! We should go get something together."

That didn't particularly answer her question. "I have food here. I was just about to make myself dinner."

"But Germany, you're on vacation. Why make yourself something when you can go out — enjoy the night, go on an adventure!"

"I'm not actually on a vacation. You know that," she replied wearily. "Going out requires money if you're not aware."

He hummed happily, looking at her with a certain look she couldn't quite decipher. "Going out doesn't mean it has to be expensive."

She was about to deny it but then her stomach growled loudly, and she blushed.

"Eating is quicker in the house. Going out will take more time than making something here," she defended using the embarrassing growl to her advantage somehow.

Italy looked out the window disappointed. "But it's so nice out. Besides, what's better than having someone else cook the food for you after a long day?"

 _You can always make me something_ she thought actually wanting it. But she squashed that desire down.

"Being inside."

Italy put a finger over his lip thinking over something. His eyes trailed up in thought, and she inspected his outfit more carefully in the brief seconds that he was preoccupied.

 _Italy always looks good,_ she noticed from the way his white button shirt and black blazer fit around his torso. He always appeared clean and sharp, his black tie a line for her gaze to follow the path set to his leather belt and pants. 

Italy's frame had always been on the lighter side, but it was as she had seen from earlier in the week, his body wasn't exactly frail. He held more muscle in his thighs and calves than she expected, and it was a nice sight to see underneath the black, clean slacks that hugged his form in a flattering way without it being too tight. It must be tailored specifically to his body, nothing about his outfit out of place or slightly off to indicate that it was mass-produced. His suit wrapped his shoulders in the right way, was just the right tightness in his bicep area, and the correct length in waist and sleeve. 

It was the small details she noticed from his polished shoes to his silver, expensive watch sitting on his tanned wrist, and the resounding thought of _Italy looks handsome_ didn't leave her mind as she placed special attention to his hands. Inevitably she met his lips from his finger that was lightly placed over there, and she darted her eyes away. She has been staring at him much more recently lately and something had to be wrong with her.

"What about this then. Care to join me for dinner, Germany?"

"Right now?"

He laughed slightly. "Yes, right now. Let's go eat out. I want to make the most out of it while I still have free time."

She thought about it. But it didn't take long for her decision to be made.

She sighed and grabbed her purse she had just put away. She looked down at the pair of Mary Janes she slipped off her feet with disdain earlier and carefully put them back on. It was the least she could do.

"Alright fine. Your coercion tactics worked on me."

"I've been learning from the best!" He opened the door for her so that she could step out first. She locked the door behind her as they went down the stairs and walked across the uneven road. The small heel of her shoes tapped against the ground as the city around them lulled in quiet, a car passing by every fifteen minutes or so. It was peaceful walking in the evening, the end of summer approaching as August came to a rolling end and September brought in cooler temperatures. Despite the late hour, the sun was only setting, the sky a canvas of reds and oranges to brush across the sky in a haze. Clouds rolled by as if they were mere sugary wisps, soft and weightless across the sky.

"I'm surprised you want to go out," she said walking side by side to him. She subconsciously followed his slower gait as they strolled to their unknown destination.

"Why?" he asked, focusing his attention on her.

7 pm struck before they knew what to make of it as the bells of a cathedral rang in an orotund hum. The deep, resonating echo of the bell crept into every corner and crack of the city, a hollow, beckoning call as the sky of a red set. It was an echo that made her feel guilty as they passed by the church.

"Usually, you get repulsed at the idea of eating out unless it's at your place. You do realize we're going to be eating my food, right?"

He faced ahead as relaxed as before. "I know. It doesn't really matter to me. I just want to spend time with you."

If there was anything Germany could appreciate, it was Italy's candidness. "You have been going to more meetings lately. Was your visit to the capital as urgent as your boss made it out to be? I'm surprised you came back so quickly."

"Yeah, I guess so — I get why he called me over but he didn't have to be so grouchy about it. And I'm surprised that I came back so quickly too! Usually, my boss doesn't let me off the hook that easily. I wish I also had time off."

 _I guess I worried for nothing. He isn't going to be deployed soon._ She was confused by her own thoughts. _Him going to battle is a good thing! Why do I feel relieved that he's here?_

Her situation wasn't exactly something she wanted to be reminded about. "There's too much work to be done to lounge about. I hate this."

"It's good to relax," he said looking up at the sky. "You don't realize how valuable happiness is until it's taken away."

"I suppose so," she agreed, contemplating it too. "But it still bothers me. Happiness can come after the war is over. Once we win, that's when I can stand idle."

"No thinking about the war when we're out," he said playfully. "Too much stress is going to give you a heart attack!"

"As if I'm the one who should be worried about coronary disease."

He gasped and placed a hand over his chest. " _Me?"_

She smiled slightly at his antics. "Yes, _you._ "

He laughed at her tone, his hands going into his pockets. "Imagine eating wurst with every meal. All that meat can't be good for the bowels."

"My bowel movements are fine thank you!"

"I never said yours weren't but that's great, Germany! Mine are good too!"

She realized that she overshared, and she was terribly embarrassed by this. _Is he teasing me?_

She turned her head away. "I didn't need to know that."

Something caught his attention before he could say something back. He got excited. "Hey, look! There's a man selling flowers!"

She looked at what he was gazing at. He was right. But she didn't see the big deal in it. Flower shops were always busy with all the dead soldiers' families wanted to mourn.

Italy was already chatting with the vendor leaving her to catch up. "Hey, don't go off just wandering around!"

She made her way to Italy's side and looked down at the beautiful assortment of bouquets. _Why does he have to have such a short attention span? Well, whatever. This doesn't involve me._

"Which flower do you like the most?" she heard Italy ask her curiously. She glanced over at him looking at the selection thoughtfully. Her stomach twisted slightly.

"Depends on what you need flowers for."

_Does he need them for a date or something? I suppose a female opinion is better than guessing._

One bouquet was catching her attention more than the others and her eyes kept going back to the bundle despite her pragmatism.

"I see you've taken a fancy for this bouquet, mam," the vendor called her out. "They are quite beautiful. They're just as pretty as your eyes."

She looked away disliking that she had been caught. Her heart began to speed up when Italy glanced at her.

_Damn it, I just had to keep looking at the heliotropes. I was just surprised he had them. Usually, all they have are roses. I don't want to see those flowers again._

He smiled. "Hey, they do match your eyes."

Poor Germany couldn't stop the red to her face even if she wanted to, her arms crossing at the attention both men were giving her. She should have just stayed behind!

"I wasn't the one who came here. You needed flowers for something?" she asked to bring them back to the point.

_Besides, heliotropes are purple, not blue. They're lying. They don't match my eyes. The vendor is just trying to make a sale._

"I'll take this bouquet of heliotropes, sir," Italy said happily, reaching for his wallet to pay the man. Germany whipped her head watching the exchange happen.

 _Just because I liked those flowers, he went and bought them?_ she thought it over as Italy took the white base into his hands and waved the vendor goodbye with a thank you and have a great night. The vendor told them to have a wonderful evening as well, the sun setting to make everything slightly darker.

Germany walked away with Italy processing his motives. "What are you going to do with them now? Are you going to stop by a cemetery soon?"

Italy shook his head smiling thinking she was always too morbid. "No, I'm not visiting a gravestone. These are for you!"

He handed the assortment to her, the redolence of the heliotropes wafting up in the familiar calming way they always did, and she blushed as the thick bouquet met her nose. It smelled like vanilla of all things.

She took them timidly. " _W-Was_? For me? I don't need this."

"No, but I'm glad I gave them to you. You chose the best ones from the vendor, for sure!"

Her mind reeled to find logic in this highly illogical turn of events. "But that doesn't answer why you gave this to me! Tell me why!"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed stopping in the middle of the road to process what he meant. She went through possibilities in her head, her brain working like a machine as she went through an input and output. There was practically steam coming out of her ears as the gears to her brain went on overdrive. 

He watched her progressively get more overwhelmed, overheated, and buzzing as if about to self-implode, her body vibrating like a malfunctioning engine, and he became worried because he's seen this scenario before on Valentine's Day. "They're a prop for the painting I want to do with you!" he explained quickly, not wanting her to shut down. "That's the reason."

Finding a reason for his action brought her back to normal. She walked forward completely fine again, the tremors and weird noises from before gone. "Oh. You should have said that." She looked down at the soft, purple petals and noticed how fragile they were. "Wouldn't it make more sense to buy them when you're going to do the painting so they don't wither away?"

"I can always buy another pair," he said jovially. "They were pretty so I bought them. Aren't they nice?"

"Yes but there's no reason to buy them now. You need to spend your money more wisely or else you're going to always wonder why you're failing in life. This purchase was frivolous and unnecessary."

He wilted. "You don't like them?" He seemed saddened. "I guess I'll take them back..."

She held the flowers close to her chest and shifted so that he wouldn't take them away from her.

"I-I never said I didn't like them! You already bought them so you can't return them now. I'll take good care of them so that your frivolous spending is at least put to use!"

She blushed at her outburst, her ears turning red at what had just come out of her mouth, and she scrambled to not make it so obvious she enjoyed him gifting her things.

But Italy was just relieved, and he smiled. "I know you'll take great care of them! That makes me happy to hear!"

"Honestly," she grumbled. "How does your mind even work." She adjusted the bouquet. "Where are we going to eat by the way? I don't think you've been to this part of town," she commented.

"Only somewhere super cool and delicious," he said proudly.

"Cool? What's so cool about a restaurant?" she asked, finding his bursts of energy to be so strange.

"You'll see! We're almost there, so don't worry. I know you're really hungry."

"I really don't like being kept in the dark. Just tell me where we're going."

Italy rubbed the back of his head smiling sheepishly. "To be honest with you, I don't know the name of the place, and I think I'm going the right way. Reading German is hard."

She would have facepalmed if she had the mobility. "It astounds me that you understand and speak German yet can't read it." She looked at the nearest sign and read it to him. "Does that sound familiar?"

He thought about it. But then he smiled. "Nope! But that's okay we're getting close! I remember where we are now." They took a right, and Germany recognized this path. They were heading to Römerberg, the old town center.

 _It must be a nice restaurant,_ she thought, wondering where he was taking her to. She only visited the old center in the morning to get food, the morning market lively and busy as soon as the sun rose up, but when darkness fell, she didn't step foot in this part of the city. She didn't have any reason to, but now with time for leisure and company, she was undeniably excited to see what kind of nightlife she had been missing.

They entered the old town square and just as predicted, it was as busy as ever.

"We're here. Now where to?" she inquired, enjoying the busy ambiance. Despite how dreary the war has been, she was glad to see that her citizens could at least still enjoy things like this.

"It's not here," he corrected. "We're close though. I just remembered the big fountain and now remember exactly where it is!"

She was even more curious now. But she followed him out of the old center square to wherever it was that they were going. They walked for ten more minutes until they came across the Main River.

They climbed onto the bridge to pass, and she looked down at the water reflecting the sunset as birds flew across the sky in a silhouette of black. She took in the sight of nature at its calmest, the water that gave her life still to her as she saw it stretch across as it would a vein in her body. The water was just as pallid as a vein would be, the soft underside of her arm pale enough to see the path of blue elongating from her wrist to forearm.

"If I had known we were going to be walking this much, I wouldn't have agreed to come. I'm hungry," she stated feeling a stronger stomach pang.

"It'll all be worth it," Italy sang. "When you're hungry, the food tastes better! Isn't that what you always say? Work hard to build an appetite?"

"Yes, but this is different! I don't purposely starve you."

"I promise it will be worth the wait," he said, still leading the two into different narrow roads where churches and stores appeared in cobblestone and arches. She knew the layout of her city well, but even she was wondering if they were getting lost, and Italy was just set on not telling her. She was trusting him to not lead her on some big goose chase because she wasn't a forgiving person when hungry.

Another five minutes passed and then he smiled widely spotting the place he wanted to go and faced her. He pointed to where they were headed. "There it is! It didn't move!" He picked up his feet to head over.

Germany followed his finger to see what he was pointing at, and her eyes widened.

 _Wait, there?!_ _That's one of the fanciest restaurants in the city! You can only get in by invitation!_

She pulled on his arm to stop him from rushing over blindly. 

"We can't go there! We'll never get in — we don't have a reservation, and I'm certainly not dressed for it. It's also way too expensive!" she warned by pulling him back. The restaurant's facade was lovely, elegant and ostentatious and certainly big. It was fine-dining through and through, the likes of the building something she would imagine Austria approving of. 

"Oh, really?" He wasn't aware of that. "I was able to get us both in today," he said, already walking to the door.

Her eyebrow was spazzing in the information overload she was trying to process.

 _Does that mean he has a reservation for us? Did he plan this? There's no way he could have booked us a spot so quickly!_ She looked at Italy's back already opening the door as if this was really just natural.

_Damn that Italian with his rich roots. Not all of us were born with Venice as our heart._

But as she thought back to it, _I guess that's why Italy looked so nice. But then again, he always looks nice._

Not wanting to look like a clown in front of her wealthier population, she tugged at Italy's sleeve again anxious when entering the spacious reception hall with lights and marble all around. Their steps echoed inside the repurposed mansion, and she looked around red at the undeniable fact that it was a very nice place for just the two of them...

"We need to leave. We're just going to make a fool out of ourselves," she hissed wanting them to go back.

"Hm? No, we're not. It's not like we can't be in here," he replied cheerfully, confidently.

She braced herself for the spectacle that was about to occur.

 _Even if we are nations, it doesn't mean we can just waltz in and demand a table. This is going to be so embarrassing,_ she thought already mortified to be seen with this bouquet in her hands.

" _Ciao,_ I'm here for a table for two under Veneziano," Italy greeted the usher in front of the podium. Germany looked away in the hope that by not having direct eye contact she would avoid association with Italy.

The usher looked down at his black leather book filled with names. "Veneziano? What time?"

Before Italy could finish, the usher's eyes widened. "Oh, I see. Right, this way Mr. Veneziano." The usher looked over at Germany and tilted his chin up already mid-turn to lead Italy away.

“I'm sorry, but there _is_ a dress code to enter this establishment.”

Germany looked down. Could the ground just swallow her alive? All she’s heard today is that she’s not allowed to do this, she’s not supposed to be that, she’s banned from this, she needs to do that, and she got it. She wasn’t wanted anywhere. She got it. She got it. She got it.

“Actually, she’s with me,” Italy spoke up. “Will that be a problem?”

She wasn’t sure how Italy looked like since she kept her gaze down, but she did hear a change in his tone. For some reason, she imagined that his eyes weren’t pleased.

“A-Ah, yes. Come this way ma'am,” the usher hastily corrected himself. Germany lifted her head up not believing that she was actually following Italy inside.

The usher moved to lead them to a table without hesitation. And Germany was sure Italy had just done some kind of evil magic on her citizens. They moved into the restaurant, their figures passing among the chatter and wonderful aroma of expensive delicacies to then climb up winding stairs. Germany held onto the cold banister of the imposing black metal and went up the polished wooden steps. With every step, she ascended above the tables talking, and she couldn't help but shiver slightly.

_Am I going to die? This gives me murder vibes._

It was quieter as they went above, the surrealism of it all making her wonder if reality was truly just a fabrication, and then they were led to a large patio. A lone table remained untouched and away from the main entrance. It was secluded enough to not bring too much attention to them but not completely hidden in the corner. They were led to the table, Germany feeling stares from the high-profile women in makeup and jewelry. She saw one woman drag out her cigarette and raise a disapproving eyebrow at her as she walked by, and Germany hasn't felt this self-conscious in decades. She was the definition of out of place.

Germany settled into her chair still trying to process this. She glanced out at the beautiful greenery, people walking below the terrace top, and then back down at the thick, black napkins and fine silverware laid out for her. For a moment, it was as if she was young again in the palace and having dinner with Prussia's _junkers_. The slithering feeling of discomfort came from such unearned gaudiness, and she carefully put down her flowers to pick up her menu as Italy was looking at the choices to eat.

She held tightly onto the leather encasing and rose it up. It was tall enough to hide her face, and she couldn't help but poke her head to the side.

"Are you part of the mob?" she whispered loudly.

Italy was about to put down the menu when he heard her serious question, and he couldn't help but laugh at it.

"No, Germany, of course not! They're scary."

She stared at him. Out of the two brothers, she somehow found Italy's involvement with the mafia most likely. She didn't know why since most gangs were centered down South and near Naples, not Venice, but yet there was something about all this that screamed suspicious.

He must have felt her staring. "What? Do you not believe me?"

"...It's a little difficult when considering all this," she gestured to the other guests smoking and chatting. (Her boss would have a fit over all this tobacco). "Are you here to do a deal?" She surveyed the guests. Wealthy men and women alike littered the tables, and in this terrace, time stood still. There was no war. There was only money.

"I'll cover you if that's what you want."

Her imagination was amusing to him. He smiled. "And what would you do?"

She hypothesized what she could do in a situation like this.

"I-I don't know. I could create a distraction. But that's off-topic. Why are we here?" she demanded because she _did_ know a way to be useful in this situation. But she shouldn't be thinking about it. She obviously wouldn't be Italy's first choice in a fake girlfriend.

"Because I heard the food is good," he chirped. "When I asked your neighbors where a good place to eat would be for you and me, they said here!" He glanced around pleased too. "I'm glad I listened to them because they were right. This place is nice."

Her eyelid began to twitch. _What are my neighbors thinking? Are they trying to set me up or something? Treason all of them. I'm turning them all in._

She wanted to faceplant into the table. Italy couldn't be this oblivious. He had to know what he was doing…!

"You do realize that…" She held onto the menu tighter and went back to hide her face since the menu was so tall, "you do realize why people usually come here right?"

Her heart sped up. She was getting uncomfortable memories of a situation _very_ familiarto this and she could only handle so much mortification in her life.

Italy didn't understand what she was getting so worked up over. She sounded as if they had walked into a brothel. Had her neighbors accidentally sent them to a nefarious place…? With the way Germany had been dressed earlier in the month...she said she wasn't part of _that_ line of work but perhaps she still knew more than she let on…?

"Are we in the red light district?"

"WHAT?!" She slammed down the menu on the table. "NO. We're not in the red light district!"

Her voice naturally carried and the strident slam brought on attention at the commotion. People from the surrounding tables looked over at them, stopping at what they were doing to judge them and see what the loudness was from, and her mind pushed the button and ejected. She was at her limit. She served her time.

Germany slid down the chair hiding her face with the menu.

Italy watched her sink further and further down her seat, the leather chair making it easy to slide until eventually she was gone from sight. Italy couldn't contain his smile at her behavior, Germany such a weird person sometimes, and he looked underneath the table to where Germany was hiding. She was hidden underneath the long draping tablecloth, her figure invisible to the guests now that she was covered by a white cloth by his knees. She was huddled underneath the table still abashed with radiating awkward vibes. Poor Germany was about to explode.

"What are you doing down there?" he asked laughing. She never failed to surprise him, even after all these years.

She looked up at him, her expression vulnerable with the way she stared up at him. "I'm hiding. I can't show my face anymore."

"Come on Germany, it's not so bad. No one's even looking anymore," he coaxed. If anything, it was weirder to talk to the ground.

"You sure?"

"Yes, it's fine. What's the waiter going to think when he comes to take our order?"

He had a point. She slowly crawled back up to face him, and as he said, no one was paying attention to them anymore. Well, the table in front of them was but she chose to pretend they didn't exist because haha, surely they weren't obsessed with her or something.

Once back in a seat she still wanted to jump off over the edge. She looked at the ground shrouded in black and judged the distance down contemplating it for a second.

_Damn. At this height, it still wouldn't kill me._

The worst part of all of this was that it wasn't even Italy causing a scene. _She_ was the one digging herself into a hole, and she just wanted to go home. She was probably losing all his respect as they spoke.

"Um, er, yeah. We're not in the red light district. There's nothing wrong with this place," she answered quietly since she was paranoid about her volume control. "What makes you think that?"

"You asked me if I knew why people came here as if there was a suspicious reason and that sounded like this place was dangerous! And before that, you were wondering if I worked with the mafia to get a table." He grinned. "You did make a good distraction, though."

She could cook something on her face. "Shut up! Do you even know what you're going to get?"

He brightened up. "Nope! I can't read German!"

She wanted to choke him. She really _really_ did.

"Then why did you come here?" she asked with her eye spazzing out more.

"Because your neighbors suggested it!"

She sighed. She glanced at the menu and surveyed what she was in the mood for. She was so hungry that she didn't care what she ate. She just wanted food.

"What would you recommend then?" he asked.

She considered the options listed.

_Italy likes pasta. He hates wurst so that rules out a lot of the meat-heavy meals. Actually...when looking at the options, the food here seems to be more German-French cuisine than actual Frankfurt food. There's more fish than I expected. Italy would probably like that. Either he's smarter than he looks by choosing a restaurant that is that isn't traditional German food or this was really just dumb luck._

She found something she thought Italy would enjoy. She put down her menu and pointed to where she was. "You should try out the _Ragout vom Maibock mit Frühlingsgemüse und Topfenknödel_."

It sounded fancier than it actually was, but she thought he would like French stew with spring vegetables and curd cheese dumplings. And since this restaurant was as high class as it was, the meal would surely turn out delicious. It was a little disheartening to learn however that it was only when France's culture intermingled with hers that it was worth anything of respect. 

Because Italy understood German but just couldn't read it, he showed visible interest in her suggestion. "Oh, do you think they can put pasta in it?"

She didn't see why not. "When the waiter comes, you can ask. It's not like we're that far away from your home for it to be a shock."

He seemed pleased by it. "And what about you?"

She knew exactly what she wanted. "I'm getting the _Rosa gebratenes Kalbsfilet mit Sauce Béarnaise, Stangenspargel und Frühkartoffeln."_ Her stomach growled just thinking about it but luckily Italy didn't hear it. She would perish into the ground if something else bad happened.

He smiled. That sounded like something Germany would like. Marinated veal with potatoes and asparagus was as Germany as they could get.

When the waiter came to them, Germany didn't wait around. There was no time for appetizers, compliments from the host, or tiny salads. She ordered her entire meal and drink right then and there, and she wasn't even ashamed to do something out of the norm. She was hungry, dammit and the aroma of delicious food around her was pissing her off!

Italy ordered wine and lucky him, the chefs were willing to add pasta to his meal as an alteration. Now Italy was happy as they waited for their drinks and meal to come.

"I still don't understand how you can speak German so fluently and yet not read a single word on the menu," she said thinking how strange that was. Well, when she thought about it, it wasn't _that_ strange. Italy most likely learned German through hearing and assimilating, language always learned the quickest when simply conversing with others, so he had no need to know how to read it. This was especially true since literacy rates still weren't high.

He watched her pedestrians walk below on the terrace. "I know the basics but when I try to read something I don't have in my vocabulary, it becomes harder."

Their drinks came as she was about to reply, and she was grateful to finally have something to sip on. A beer was exactly what she needed right now.

She took a drink out of her mug and contemplated it. She leaned over to where his menu was and opened it. She pointed to a meal in the _Hauptgänge_ section, the main meals. "Can you read what this says?"

He looked down at what she was pointing at. "Um...something about turbot and asparagus?"

She looked at him. "Where have you encountered asparagus and turbot in your daily vocabulary?"

He smiled. "Did I get it right?"

"Yes. But it makes me wonder." She pointed to another section, this time to the desserts. "What about this?"

He didn't know. "I see the word and if that helps any." He noticed something. "You have pretty hands, Germany."

She almost jolted. Just when she thought she wasn't going to get pink again, there she went getting warm to the face. She pulled her hand away so he wouldn't look at her fingers and put them underneath the table.

"W-What are you talking about? Don't say such random things like that!"

_He finds my hands pretty? Yay!_

Curse her inner monologue.

"Sorry," he said almost as if he hadn't realized it. "Anyway, what did it say?"

"Cheese plate," she replied, still repeating his compliment in her head. She was undeniably happy at the fact that he had noticed something as small as her skincare routine. It took dedication to make sure her hands didn't get dry and calloused and overly brittle. And proper nail care was just sanitary, nothing girly about it. Yes. She didn't do "totally fab" manicures like Poland insisted because she took care of her cuticles.

"Cheese plate?"

They talked some more about different things, their conversation heading in all kinds of directions, but that was only expected when she was around Italy. Their food came out before they knew it, and hot plates came their way by the steady arms of their waiter in black and white.

Germany was about to tear apart her plate when their waiter set it down in front of her. She had witnessed evening turn to night in this seat so she was more than just a little hungry at this point.

When everything was settled, refills done, and the waiter gone, Italy was the first to comment.

"Wow, everything looks so good! Even your plate looks good."

Germany was in heaven really. She only heard him once she had a potato in her mouth. She chewed because she wanted to gloat a bit.

"Well you _are_ at my house," she said, glad to have the opinion about her food turned around a bit from him.

He laughed having fun with her here. They talked all throughout dinner, Germany having forgotten about her rocky entrance to the restaurant to enjoy herself on this summer night.

 _You know this isn't so bad,_ she realized putting her napkindown back on her thigh. _When was the last time I felt this way? After a long day, this makes me...happy? Being with Italy makes me happy. I wish it was like this between us all the time. I don't like it when he flirts with other women._

She smoothed out the napkin again. It was already without wrinkles. _Must be the beer talking. Where did that come from?_

The waiter came up to their table again to dispel her musings to present the check to Italy. "Here you are, sir. I'll take it when you are ready." And then he was gone.

Italy opened the leather-bound pamphlet to see what the total was. The price wasn't exactly shocking to him, a hum just passing by as he saw everything tallied up.

She was curious about what he was reading. "How much is it?"

Germany was breaking decorum by inquiring about the price, but it wasn’t every day that she went out to eat in such a high-class restaurant anymore. She was much more comfortable in a tavern than anything else, especially when in Frankfurt, and so if she was going to have this nice dinner with Italy, she would like to see the disparity of her normalities. From the nonchalance Italy has displayed over the course of their meal, she couldn’t exactly trust his judgment of what was ordinary.

He waved it off merrily. “Oh, it’s nothing too bad. Don’t worry about it.”

She did worry about it. “No, tell me. How much was it? You’re the one who claimed eating out didn't have to be expensive to only show up here.”

He observed her confused. “Did you not like it?” He seemed almost hurt.

She retracted realizing she sounded ungrateful. “N-No, I loved it here! Don’t misunderstand! But eating out to a place like this is a luxury I’m sure we both cannot afford right now.” Music floated through, the soft aria of a piano hypnotizing when combined with murmur. “I would like to know so we can split the bill. I’ll pay for my portion of the meal. It’s only fair.”

Germany didn’t think she had said anything outrageous. There was no reason for Italy to cover everything because she looked like a woman. They were both nations and should treat this as such, but it seemed as though what she had suggested didn’t settle right with Italy. His eyes glanced away from her to pay attention to something else, something across the diner, and his direct eye contact to something amid the terrace made her alert as well.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked scanning for suspicious activity. Even when out they couldn’t stop being vigilant.

He smiled when he found what he needed, and turned back to her to answer. “Something wrong? No, nothing’s wrong.”

She held out her palm expectant. “Give me the bill.”

He handed her the little booklet since she insisted on that tone of hers, and she opened it to see how much she was going to dish out tonight.

Her eyebrows shot up.

_It’s a good thing my boss has been giving me some extra money these past few weeks. This is crazy! How do any of these people pay for this? How did Italy not freak out?_

She did the math in her head quickly. “This will be easy to split up.”

Their waiter came by the table, and he couldn’t have arrived at a better time. She was about to reach into her purse and pay her portion of the meal until Italy took his wallet out and paid for everything. She blinked wondering if she was just seeing things, her hand still in her purse as she saw him smile and hand the waiter the leather encasing with the money inside. The waiter walked away, and everything happened too quickly.

Italy looked back at her and smiled. "What?"

"You didn't have to do that," she said, taking her hand out still surprised. "We could have just split the bill."

He placed his hand on his cheek and looked at her lowly amused. "But I'm the one who asked you to have dinner with me."

The thought zipped through her head before she knew what to do with herself:

_Is this a date?_

She hoped it wasn't. She wasn't prepared! She hadn't gotten around to purchasing her self-help books yet! She was on uncharted territory, and she hated not knowing what to do.

"O-Oh. Are you sure?" She went to her purse again. "I'll pay you back right now then. It was seventy right —?"

Italy straightened his posture and laughed at her cute, panicked counting on the other side of the table.

"No, this one's on me! You don't have to pay me back anything."

She didn't feel right about it. "But Italy, the tab was so high. You ordered wine and I—"

"You worry too much," he commented looking at her once again with a gaze she didn't understand, the color of his irises entrancing her for a moment in the street light. They coruscated for a moment, a breeze passing by to make his brown fringe sway, and she felt frozen for a second.

He smiled again, the familiar stretch of his lips erasing the look he just had. "I wanted to do it. Money doesn't mean much to me when I get to have dinner with you."

Again, her chest fluttered. She hated how easily she blushed, the blood in her cheeks easily shown by the shyness that came with blandishments and overt affection.

"I-I see. I still think you are being foolishly stubborn but...thank you.”

He smiled again and the waiter came back with his change in which Italy gave back anyway for the generous tip. The waiter bid them goodnight more than happy with that turn of events, and Germany was ready to leave already. Italy grabbed his jacket and shimmied it on, Germany noting that black looked good on him. She didn't want to think about his appearance further because her thoughts have been all over the place tonight. She wasn't sure what was going on with her.

 _Snap out of it,_ she berated herself to resist the urge to look at him again.

"Ready to head out?" he asked.

She had her purse and belongings so she nodded yes. They walked out into the night, the sky finally black to make the stars above shine bright. There was light chatter among the streets, city-goers enjoying the beautiful evening in their thin coats and hats. Germany rarely relished in the nightlife of Frankfurt, the light-hearted energy and cool air enchanting when walking past people and lights. Without much to worry about, at the moment, it was peaceful, it was nice. She and Italy walked on the sidewalk, Germany speaking more for once as Italy was much keener on listening tonight than most other days. It wasn’t to say that Italy never shut up, but most times he was the driving force of the conversation in which she naturally just followed along due to her inclination to respond rather than instigate.

“It’s like a typewriter but not,” she explained not having shared this with anyone since everyone found this boring. “It works off of binary code in which you can manipulate it in any way you want to by manually inputting the data. The machine itself takes up almost the entire room,” she moved her hands to demonstrate the size despite them being on the street, her eyes excited to discuss what her engineers have been up to, “and imagine a wall of tiny light bulbs and circuits in rows from floor to ceiling with a main keyboard to input the calculations. They call it a computer. It’s like something you’ve never seen before, Italy,” she said almost dreamily at the beautiful mix of science and math coming together to create something new in the creativity of invention. “It works through electromechanical processes, the older model based off vacuum tubes to make it fully digital. You supply the program code through a piece of punched film, and as of right now it can hold sixty-four words of memory. Sixty-four words! Imagine not having to use paper to record information, your words memorized as soon as you type them on the keyboard — “

He hated to cut her off when she was making such a cute demonstration with her fingers to signal typing, but the car that passed by set him slightly on edge. "Hey, Germany, switch sides with me," he said brushing her arm to motion her to move.

She did as he asked not knowing why it mattered. "What's wrong with the way we were before?"

"You were facing the streets," he replied as though that would satisfy her.

"And why does that matter?"

Italy waved his finger. "Germany, Germany, I can't let you walk near the road. It's dangerous! Haven't you ever wondered why women stay on the right side and men on the left?"

She looked around to confirm if what he said was true. And now that he had pointed it out, he was right. Every man was walking near the road while women and children kept close to the buildings. It was a fascinating thing to witness as she saw everyone follow this universal code she was not aware of. She tried searching for the anomaly, for the group to confirm that this was just a coincidence, but it seemed as though everyone understood something she did not.

"No, I've never noticed," she said feeling dumb for not knowing about this social rule.

"It goes back to the Medieval days," he recalled. "People used to dump their chamber-pots out the window and into the streets, and so if you were to stand where I am, you would get a bucket load of crap on your head." He laughed. "So better me than you!"

"That sounds absolutely horrendous and unsanitary," she commented scrunching up her nose and being glad for once about her age. She was born into an era of science and rationality, germ theory taught to her in her infancy to make her the woman she was today. She was as Prussia would put it, as "2.0 as they got." Although she wasn't quite sure what meant by that since the number two implied that there was once a one before her.

"It was," he shuddered. "It was so awful! I don't know how we all used to live with the smell."

"The world was a different place," she said looking up at the dark sky. "I'm sure one day we'll look back to this day and wonder how we ever put up with the things we do now. We only know as much as we do in the present."

"I wonder what a future like that will be like," he said, a bit melancholic.

"A future where we win," she said resolutely.

His stance perked up. "Is that an ice cream stand?"

She turned to what he was paying attention to. "You're still hungry?"

"There's always room for ice cream! Come on," he said, tugging at her hand to lead her to where the vendor was perched on the sidewalk. She stumbled from his force that wasn't particularly frightening but more so surprising that she was actually following him. His hand wrapped around her list, his grip not letting go, and she flushed slightly at his warm touch on her skin. In the glimmer of the light, she saw his watch reflect, his wrist covered by the watch she never saw him take off despite its impracticality and she realized how easy it was for him to hold her.

Once she started walking quickly after him, discomfort struck her. A stinging sensation pulsed from her heel, and she winced at the back of her shoe scraping against her lower ankle. Her shoes were hurting her, and she slowed down consequently.

He looked back to see what was wrong. "My shoes," she explained stopping in the middle of the road. "They're getting uncomfortable."

"Do you need to sit down?" he asked looking down at her feet.

She denied that notion. "No. It'll be okay. We're not that far from the stand."

He was still concerned. "Are you sure? You were limping."

_I'm not used to these shoes. I don't know why I decided to bring these out._

_— "You look pretty. You should wear skirts more often." —_

"I just need to break them in more. I'll never get used to them if I don't walk in them," she justified. She walked forward to demonstrate she was fine and that the limp from before was nothing to worry about. Outwardly, her stride was normal but internally she was biting to not wince at the stinging of her flesh chafing so badly with the leather rubbing against her skin. She made it shoulder to shoulder with him and prompted him to ask about it again.

"Well, if you say so," he relented knowing he hadn't been seeing things.

They proceeded to head toward the ice cream stand, Italy slowing down regardless of what Germany said, and it seemed as though her shoes were tougher than she thought because she began to awkwardly step again to alleviate the small jabs to her bone and flesh.

"Here," he said, already leading her to a bench. She followed when he led and conveniently enough there was an empty spot for her to sit.

"You should sit down for now." He smiled at her. "Ice cream will definitely make it better so wait here, okay? I'll go get us something really tasty!"

She wasn't particularly worried about the treat but he left before she could make a big scene about it. She watched him leave as though on a mission, and she sat on the bench conflicted as she thought about Italy's words throughout the night. She rubbed the plastic coating around the bouquet flowers she still held in her hands.

_"Hey, they do match your eyes."_

_"You have pretty hands."_

_"But I'm the one who asked you to have dinner with me "_

_"Haven't you ever wondered why women stay on the left and men on the right?"_

She moved the back of her foot and just as she predicted, a stinging sensation burst through, her leather heel meeting the tender skin of her lower ankle.

 _He's treating me differently,_ she thought moving her foot within her shoe despite the pain, a dumb sense of curiosity to see if it would still hurt every time she moved. _He's treating me like a woman._

She looked down at the ground. _But I'm not angry about it._

She chewed her lip slightly. _I get infuriated when my boss tells me to act like a woman. But when Italy does it, I don't care. They're both reminding me I'm not a man and will never be treated as one. I'm different. This body will always make me different._

She shifted her eyes up and watched Italy buy them ice cream.

 _Should I be angrier he's treating me this way? This is exactly what I didn't want to happen._ She lost Italy in the crowd but knew he would be coming back soon.

_I only hope this doesn't last forever. If I lose Italy's respect of all people, I really shouldn't be in the military._

She flicked her gaze out into the river. She saw little balcony gardens and flowers from the houses flushed against the bank, and she couldn't help but become lighter when seeing them reflected in the blue water.

_But I suppose that for one night, it isn't so bad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I copy and pasted the meals from an official menu of a fine-dining restaurant in Frankfurt so if for some reason the german is STILL bad, please don't come for me. There isn't going to be much foreign language use after this. 
> 
> IT'S GO TIME DUDES. We're on part one of the date! And sauvee! Italy has entered the chat. There's nothing stopping a romantic Italian now with the green light. I was honestly torn between writing Italy as his usual dorky self and having the date be a comedy of errors or write him as a lover that only knows what he's doing when it comes to romance. I tried to find a good middle ground between the two in this chapter by adding some humor in it since Germany is still in the picture, and she is (bless her) DENSE. I don't know if I really achieved that, but it was definitely fun to write.
> 
> As always, I want to say a huge thanks to everyone who has commented. It has made me super motivated to post and write! I'm happy ya'll are enjoying it, so if you liked this chapter (or have some critique, that's appreciated as well) make sure to leave a review to let me know. Kudos are loved as well~ 
> 
> Alright, guys. I'll see you in the next chapter.


	4. And So it is to Dance in Affectation

He approached her with a wave and the sign of two victorious ice cream cones. She remained sitting down since her feet were hurting. She looked up at him when he handed her ice cream, their hands meeting for a brief moment.

"I got you double chocolate," he said happily.

_Does he know this is my favorite?_

"Thank you," she replied, grateful he didn't get her something bland like vanilla. She took a bite out of the sweet treat and almost melted. Pure happiness shone in her eyes for a moment at the delicacy of the sugar on her tongue.

"I haven't had one of these in years," she said, feeling a need to explain herself when Italy looked at her. He smiled and unwrapped the napkin to his own ice cream.

"You should come over to my place more. There's always gelato to go around!" he said, taking a bite out of his own cone. He smiled when eating his own strawberry and vanilla mix. "But there's definitely something to your house's ice cream. What's the secret?"

"I don't know. I'm surprised we were able to find an ice cream stand out. Rationing has made sugar scarce," she replied, licking her ice cream so that her teeth didn't ache. Her tongue scraped up the snow cone, her lips parting to lap up all of the melting, oozing treat, and she tilted her head to do it in the least messy way possible. She paid attention to her ice cream cone and not on Italy's eyes that followed her tongue. The night wasn't hot enough for the ice cream to melt within seconds of holding it, but it was soft from the natural ingredients used. She licked the ice cream scoop upward, to the tip of where the swirl was and glanced at Italy when he didn't immediately say anything. His eyes darted away quickly, and she wondered what he could have been fascinated by.

"Do your feet still hurt?" he asked, finally eating his own dessert.

"My feet aren't used to these shoes," she answered. "The blister isn't going to heal until a week from now. It only hurts when I walk."

He looked at her sympathetically. "Why don't you just take them off? That way you don't have to walk all funny."

"And go around with only stockings?" she asked appalled. "Don't be ridiculous. It's only a blister. I'll be fine."

"But then it'll bleed and hurt a lot," he said, not wanting that for her.

"It's fine. If I can't even handle this, I would be ashamed to be called your commander."

He sighed. "You're as stubborn as ever."

"It's just the truth." She licked her ice cream. "Besides, the walk back to the house is only ten minutes away."

"You think you're going to be able to make it until tomorrow then?"

"You're acting as if I got shot in the foot. I'm going to survive."

"I don't want you to be in pain," he said honestly.

She slowed down to think about what he said. Although she should have been used to his concern by now, something about the way he had said it struck her differently. Perhaps it was his tone, the light alcohol, or the general atmosphere around them, but she couldn't help but wonder what he really meant by those words. They finished their ice cream soon enough and then they were getting up to go throw away their napkins.

At the trashcan, Italy put his hands into his pockets smiling. "Hey, commander, think you're up to go somewhere else?"

She checked her watch. "Italy, it's approaching ten pm."

He spun around not bothered by it. "You're on vacation right? What's the rush? There's something I also really want to show you!"

She furrowed her brows. "That doesn't mean I'm going to abandon my routine. I still have to get up tomorrow. And where is it that you want to go? Most places are going to close soon."

There was a mischievous smile on his face as he walked backward. "You're going to have to come and see won't you?"

"Just tell me where you want to go," she said, following him when he started walking ahead. The street lights illuminated his tan skin slightly when going underneath the post, the moment he had looked back at her one almost frozen in time by how confidently he had peered into her. It wasn't a challenging stare or even a cocky one but simply one of knowing, of allurement, to beckon her to follow him without question. It was as if he knew her feet would go after him regardless of what words spilled out of her mouth, whatever protests she could conjure, because in a night as free as this, there was no reason or logic to deny the emotions surfacing through.

"Nope," he almost laughed. "Then that will ruin the surprise!"

She looked around for any signs of where their destination could be, houses and stores blending together as the number of people on the sidewalk lessened. She began limping with her right foot, the blister from before striking for vengeance as she quickened her pace. He noticed her lagging behind, her footing awkward from her attempt to not step with her heel, and he turned around.

In the time that he slowed down, she caught up to him. "Are we here?"

"Your shoe is hurting you, isn't it?" he cut to the chase.

"Just a little bit," she dismissed so he wouldn't make it a bigger deal. "Is this what you wanted to show me?"

Italy's eyes were searching for something above her. He seemed to be focused on finding something specific, almost as if her words hadn't mattered because something was already set in his mind. He then smiled.

"Hey, wait here for a second, I'll be right back. Don't move!" He ran off before she could protest.

"Wait, where are you going?" she called confused watching him dash off somewhere until she could no longer see him. She huffed. What is with him tonight? He's dashed off so many times now, and he was the one begging her to come with him!

She stayed rooted to her spot as he had ordered her, and she felt weird just standing in the middle of the sidewalk. The night was getting chillier, and she hadn't anticipated for them to be out this long. She had expected them to go to dinner, maybe get dessert, but then go home because today had truly been a busy day. As much as she liked being with Italy, she was still by nature an introvert that liked to have time for herself. Italy's energy was endless, she thought trying not to feel self-conscious at the roadblock she had created. She shuffled to the wall — _women stay on the inside_ , she recalled Italy's voice saying, and stayed there so she wouldn't be a nuisance to those passing by.

She waited for him to come back, a couple of minutes rolling by in peaceful quiet at the sounds of the city, and she almost wondered if he had really ditched and run.

Soon enough, she found his face among the lights. He was walking back toward her with something in his hands.

She tried making out what he was holding until she gave up and decided for him to show her when he got close enough to see each other's faces again. He smiled at the fact that she hadn't left yet. They were standing close to one another again, and she looked down at what he had bought.

He lifted the items he was holding in his hands. "I got you sandals! This way your feet don't have to hurt on your way home. If you keep on walking in those shoes, it's only going to get worse. If you ignore the blister it's going to make wearing all shoes painful and that's no fun."

She was quite aware of that. It was as if Italy thought she came into this planet with a military uniform on. She used to wear ballroom heels and corsets long ago.

"Look! I even got them in black to match your outfit. Hopefully, the strap is thin enough in the back so it won't bother your blister."

"There's no convincing you otherwise, is there?" she asked exasperated that he cared so deeply for something like this but not anything actually pressing like the war they were still fighting.

He brightened up at her tone. "Nope!" He scouted for a bench and found one empty not too far from them over the road. They crossed as there were no cars coming their way, and she sat down mainly following Italy's lead since he was so insistent.

Once on the bench, he kneeled down in front of her to begin taking off her shoes. She blushed at the attention it brought since it looked like he was trying to propose to her, this position incredibly subservient as he focused on gently taking off her heel without irritating her scrape. She looked down at him and didn't know how to feel about him taking care of her like this as if...as if they were something more. She would dare say this was even romantic, but surely Italy didn't like her. He was doing this because he felt bad for her. Right?

"Italy, get up. I can put the sandals on myself," she hissed moving her foot back and forth to almost kick him in the face. She didn't want to tell him that the feeling of his hand on her feet made her feel strange, the size and care of his hold on her foot making her thoughts go to places she should _not_ be having about her ally. The warmth of his palm bled into her stockings, and she felt something stir in her. If he could hold her ankle like this, then who was to say he couldn't do something better if he went above, to other body parts.

He took off her heels carefully and set them down on the cobblestone despite her movements. "No can do. I want to show you something, and I can't do that if you're in pain."

"You're being ridiculous. I don't need you to be on the ground for me," she said, focusing on his nimble fingers sliding the new sandals he had bought for her. They were cute, she wouldn't lie with their slight heel and simple design, but not something she would have wanted Italy to waste his money on. He fastened the smaller buckle for both of them and moved up the back strap so that it wouldn't bother her small wound. He bounced back up onto his feet while grabbing her Mary Janes and smiling joyed.

"There! Doesn't that feel better?"

She rotated her ankle. They _did_ ease the discomfort from before but consequently, her toes were colder than before since they were no longer covered.

"Yes, although you didn't have to do that," she replied, getting shy. She was only getting more and more confused as to why this made her secretly very happy.

"Maybe not but I wanted to." He took her hand and helped her up. She tested the edge of the sandals by moving her right shin up and down and found this to be a much better situation than before.

"How do they feel? I think they're the right size," he said hoping the impulsive decision hadn't been for nothing.

"They fit fine. These are more comfortable for sure," she commented. She set her feet flat and slightly smiled at him. "Thank you. These feel a lot better."

That was all he needed to hear apparently because he became incredibly pleased with himself. "You're welcome, Germany! They look nice on you."

She shouldn't care about her fashion choices since things like that were incredibly girly but hearing that he liked her outfit made her feel slightly less worried about how others would perceive her.

"Th-Thank you. Where is it that you were so eager to go?"

"Oh yeah! Follow me, we're almost to my favorite spot," he said motioning her to follow again with her shoes in one hand. She resumed their journey to wherever he was so eager to take her and the closer they approached the center of the city, the more confused she became.

"Are we going to take the train?" she asked, recognizing this as a way to leave.

He put a finger over his lips and gave her that same knowing, mischievous glance. "Be patient. We're almost there."

"Well, you're the one who keeps on dragging me to places!" she defended.

"But you're curious, aren't you?" There he went again with that tone as if to sing to her, an infectious easiness that came with his alacrious smile.

"Knowing you, we could end up behind a dumpster."

He laughed at her bland tone. "What? Why would I take you there?"

"You can't read!" She waved her arms around frantically. "I'm being led through the city by an illiterate person!"

"And that's what makes it fun!" He smiled finding her outbursts of emotion to be funny. "We're not heading toward a dumpster if that's what you're thinking, though. We're actually close. Want to keep guessing?"

"As long as you know where you're going, I guess I'll play along," she decided since Italy did seem to know her city through more instinctual means than she gave him credit for.

He gave her a small, playful salute in affirmation. "I will lead you, commander, to the mystery location safe and sound. Approximate distance to the desired spot: five minutes."

She shook her head at his military talk with her, the urge to be playful back rising when she felt herself becoming less tense by the positivity he always found in everything. They walked some more until he started slowing down. She looked around to see them walking toward the _Palmengarten_. This was one of the largest botanical gardens in her country that opened up months shortly after she was born in 1871. She had always found that to be something quite special whenever she had the chance to come down south. She used to think that the gardens were just for her, opened in the spring for the new powerful empire that was not a male but instead a female. Unique to only her, she would grow along with the garden for its magnificence and beauty, the mansion mimetic of the life she could have had.

Powerful yet refined. That was what they had wanted her to be in that Berlin Palace years ago, the mansion they were approaching imposing in its tall, neoclassical facade. It was just like the palace from back then, the mansion surrounded by an expansive, large garden that rivaled France's splendors in Versailles. Germany could be beautiful if anyone had ever allowed it to be, she thought, looking at the obscured roses on the path as they walked.

She didn't comment on why they were here because she enjoyed the serenity of walking along with the garden. Among the thrust of the industrial revolution, she had lost much of the joy of the more bucolic aspects of life the other countries deemed as normal.

They made it to the back of the garden after some walking, and she was glad she had changed shoes. She would not have been able to bask in the flourishes trailing after her if she were preoccupied with pain. There was no one around as it was dark, and she let the silence of the night wash over her. The scent of nature and something earthy as if to hold petrichor made her tilt her chin up. The full moon greeted her from up above in the sky stretched in a cloth of black. It spanned to an endless blanket of darkness, but for tonight there was a gentle light to lead them.

She placed her hands behind her back and found herself almost doing the same thing she had done when she was a little girl. She had the urge to stroll, the atmosphere of tranquility and familiarity calming as she remembered the good memories she had here with Prussia. Among the cloudless night, she saw stars, their glow millions of miles away yet bright enough to be seen by beings as small as them on Earth. Their twinkle wasn't lost to her, and she was once again reminded as to how different the world was when not in war. If this was how peace could be like, she wished for it sooner.

They stopped walking, and she was surprised to see a portion of the garden illuminated. While the garden was open for anyone to visit, it didn't guarantee easy access at night as the trails weren't lit.

They made it to the octagonal fountain, and her eyes widened at the hidden beauty of the large pool of crystalline water surrounded by flowers of gold, red, and pinks. There were lights placed underneath the jets to where the strong stream of water defied gravity and propelled upward to fall back down into the pool, statues of angels made in concrete there in their symmetry to softly direct the leftover water back inside the confinement of the fountain's walls. The aureate glow of the lights coruscated among the ripples of the water that could be mistaken for glass, and she walked forward to see her reflection gently distort. Shades of green, blue, and pink were found in the water despite the illusion of clarity, the fragmented pieces of color blending together to create something reminiscent of Monet and his desire for the ethereal impression rather than lack-luster reality.

"I didn't know the fountain had lights," she said, realizing how much time had passed since the last time she came. She looked at the center where everything met and watched with something crossing over her eyes. "It's beautiful."

Here in the dark, among the lights and stars, she smiled. She held onto the bouquet behind her back, her body relaxed as she breathed in and let herself enjoy this for once. Her blue eyes lowered in content, a gentle expression crossing over once here alone. Italy studied her profile, the persistent breeze of the night shuffling her fringe slightly as she was also painted in the ambiance of flowers. He studied her lips, at the way they curled and curved the way they did, and he also smiled. This was what made it worth it.

"But why did you come and show me this?" she couldn't help but ask.

"You seemed stressed," he revealed. "I like seeing you smile. You have a beautiful smile."

She leaned forward getting tongue-tied. "You did this all for me?"

Maybe she had asked a dumb question but he laughed. "Who else would I do it for?"

Well, he was right. There was no one else around at the moment. But still to know that he had really done everything for her tonight was enough to make her heart pound. She wasn't used to these moments of unconditional kindness.

"That really wasn't necessary," she deflected because she was once again getting red. She looked out into the low lit water. "I would have been just fine at home." She shivered slightly when a stronger wind passed.

"Are you cold?" he noticed.

Feeling caught, she shook her head no by default. "It's just a little bit of wind. I'm fine."

He took off his suit jacket and placed it over her shoulders without question, Germany watching his shirt stretch across his shoulders and chest to tighten and highlight his form. She couldn't look away from the sight of his arms coming out of the jacket, his deep-set collarbone peeking out from the mold of his rich, tan skin underneath the slightly unbuttoned collared shirt. She focused on his body, her eyes trailing down involuntarily to where his shirt was tucked into his pants by a black belt, and her heart struck in staccato. She got red at her gawking, her desire to gaze at his neck and jaw unsettling to her at the intensity of her wanting.

It was just curiosity, she kept on telling herself despite the excited anticipation of his hands meeting her smaller shoulders and placing the suit jacket on top of her. The weight of his suit jacket made her feel less cold, but she doubted it was all of the jacket's doing when his taller presence behind her made her body temperature rise. His chest was close to her back, and the vulnerability of not knowing how his face looked like set something off in the lower portion of her stomach. She caught the scent of him on the coat, his collar pasted with his cologne, and it made her melt. It smelled like him, of something warm and wonderful and what she wanted to know on a body rather than a piece of clothing. Her own wants made her reel, his fleeting touch on her shoulders surely just a tease now. He's been touching her all night but not committing...what was he trying to do to her?

Her throat tightened. It was hard to talk when he was acting so unusual.

She gripped on the black material trying to pass this off as normal behavior between the two of them. They were allies. He was just looking out for her. There was nothing deep about this.

"Aren't you going to get cold now?" she probed.

He backed away and stood beside her. "Better me than you."

"But you get sick easier than me. I'm used to the temperature and it makes more logical sense for you to keep your jacket." She was about to slide off the jacket and give it back to him, the implications of his clothes on her making it hard to keep boundaries between the two of them, but he just placed it back on her body.

"It's okay, really. It's windy tonight. You can give it back to me when we go back to the house."

She curled her tongue back. "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to complain that you're cold."

He laughed. "I won't. Besides, I would feel terrible knowing you were left shivering if I could have done something about it. So it makes me feel better knowing you're warm."

She nodded, accepting the explanation, not wanting to push it further since it was a nice gesture. And well, she didn't really want to let go. His cologne was incredibly nice...surely something expensive and unique to his land, and right there underneath her nose as if he was on her instead of beside her.

"This wouldn't have happened if we just had stayed home," she mused. "Instead of going out, you could have made me pasta or something for dinner...because, because you're always asking," she finished quickly to not give him the wrong idea.

Their shoulders touched, and then she was hyper-aware of their proximity. "And what would you have wanted me to make?"

"I-I don't know. You're the one always blabbering away about pasta."

"Hmm, I don't know. It sounded like you had something specific in your mind," he teased her.

"No," she flustered. "You always make a mess in my kitchen."

"But I always clean it up," he replied, making her feel some sort of way.

 _Why am I getting so nervous? It's just Italy,_ she told herself over and over again.

She picked at the sleeve of his jacket despite nothing being wrong with it. "Because I tell you too."

"Then I should really make up for that, shouldn't I?"

She wasn't able to think straight when he was so close to her. Her heart was picking up in beat at their proximity. There was a waft of something wonderful, something that made her want to lean in close and breathe in to become submerged in the scent that was making her feel light-headed.

_I want him to get closer. Please touch me._

Her thoughts made her panic. _He's my ally! I can't be thinking like this!_

"So now you're finally taking responsibility," she retorted in fake contempt. "It only took me four years."

He was getting closer to her, and she wondered if she was the only one noticing this, or more importantly, the only one that cared so deeply about it. She was getting more and more flustered as he drew closer to her despite the fact that she should be used to this by now considering how much he hugged and talked.

"It's taken me a long time," he agreed, his voice making her stomach flip. She dared to glance at him, and at that moment she was left breathless, his gaze leaving her frozen as her heart pounded through her ears and her cheeks flushed red. She stood motionless, her torso facing him as her mind clouded in a haze of anticipation — anticipation of _what?_ — she did not know but she couldn't help but want it, want it now, want whatever it was that made her so light when he placed all his attention on her.

Her thoughts raced as she saw him approach her closer and closer, the boundary of where friendship and something else blurred as he leaned forward and tilted his face. The scent from before that had been admired from a passing inhale was surrounding her here in the dark. They were far away from pedestrians, the lamp illuminating the passage casting them in a gentle light that almost blended into a shadow from where they stood by the ends. The cool shuffling breeze that passed by did nothing to cool her down.

She dropped the flowers to the ground.

Her eyes widened at the feeling of his smooth lips meeting hers, the reality of warmth, skin, and movement across her mouth spurring a strong pang of arousal to her core. He awakened a fever within her, a furrowing weightless desire to have him right on her body. She couldn't believe that this was really happening right now, but it was, it truly was, as she let out a little sound when his hand met the curve of her waist.

Germany's core sprung to life, haziness impeding judgment for a moment as she shyly kissed back and accepted that she wanted to be further intoxicated. A tingling sensation jolted down in between her legs that made her blush at the excitement growing when his palm sat on the skinny curve of her waist. Just as she had predicted from before on the bench, his hand was large enough to take hold onto her entire waist, the warmth of his skin melding into the thin fabric of her blouse. Italy's palm taking possession of her shouldn't have felt so good, but almost as if to read her mind, he pulled her in close enough that her breasts touched his chest.

Immediately, her soft breasts met his pectorals in a flush, and she could feel his body just as clearly as he could to her. The flat plains of his chest squished against her large mounds, his lips moving against her with his thumb rolling on her navel. Simultaneously, his other hand caressed her left cheek, his thumb on her face to carefully slide against her skin as they kissed. Her mind wasn't producing any cognitive thoughts whatsoever, her knees weakening at the torpid emotions tumbling through her. All she wanted to do was kiss him, her nipples hardening and her cheeks just as red as ever.

 _Why am I getting wet?_ she wondered, not wanting this to end. The reality of them needing air struck them too soon, Italy backing away so that he could breathe out and look into her eyes. She was star-struck, his confident knowing smile making her stomach curl up in a delicious way.

"Wh-What was that?" she asked not knowing what the hell was happening. Her doubts before this being a date now seemed dumb because, in his mind, he was already two steps ahead. She couldn't deny she wanted more, but to know that she had just allowed Italy, her subordinate, to kiss her as easily as he had sent her into a state of disarray. The consequences of her actions caught up to her and her face bloomed bright red. She felt the heat of her cheeks scorch, her ears pinkening in combination to make her face splotched with ruddiness and florid plight.

"Did you not like it?" he asked, watching her enter a state of cute shock but one that made her lock up and lose the easiness from before.

Her heart pounded through her ears, and Italy should know better than to ask her such questions.

_What do I say? If I answer yes then I'll be admitting that kissing him felt good — which it shouldn't have! — but if I say no then we can't do it again. Since when did I actually find Italy of all men attractive? Why can't I calm down?_

"Th-That is not the issue," she responded, not able to form a valid excuse for why she had gone along with it.

"Do you want me to let go?" he picked up moving away. That was the last thing she wanted, her hand darting to his forearm to clutch on so that he wouldn't step back.

"Wait, no," she protested before she could think about it further. "Don't do that."

He was confused. She was saying one thing and doing another and that wasn't like her. "Germany?"

"You can't just kiss me like that and then leave!" she by default argued because she wasn't good with emotions. "Th-That's incredibly rude. You have no manners. I don't know what's gotten into you, but you should know better than to leave a lady waiting and surprised," she recited looking away and getting miffed at the use of her own gender. Fine, she will admit it this _once_. They were different. Italy was a man and she was a woman, and their differences were what caused them to be here right now.

He got the clue at the last part, most of what she said making him unsure until he saw how her body hadn't moved away from his or that she refused to look into his eyes. She was too timid to do so, her body language telling of something different from her words.

"No, you're right. That's very rude of me." He tilted her chin toward him, his fingers going underneath the soft curve of her jaw so that she could look at him, and she moved when she felt his touch despite how intimidating it may be to confront him directly. "Let me do this right."

She felt as though she was floating. Her stomach was rampant with butterflies, her sense of time and space warped when it was just the two of them, and she didn't care about anything other than him. She couldn't focus, wanting pervading to every sense she held, and she sucked in her breath at what he would say next.

"I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you a lot. May I?"

Finding her voice was difficult when she felt utterly powerless. But somehow she managed to breathe out a "yes," before his lips met hers again and they were kissing just as they had before. And now there was nothing to hold him back from taking her back and pressing her body against his, his hunger for her evident when he kissed her passionately. She shut her eyes enamored with the sensation of his lips on her, his hands trailing down to the curve of her waist and back where she had been nudged forward to be flushed against his chest. She slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, her core pulsing, and their lips coming back in short puffs to come back to the other.

She had never felt so aroused before, kissing him a high she had never gained through alcohol alone, and it was sinful as to how badly she wanted his body now. Lust clouded her senses of propriety when she moaned at the gentle probing of his lips to make her open up. She flushed heavily at the sensation of the moisture pool in her underwear when his tongue settled on hers and became intertwined.

Their saliva met, the warmth of his mouth against hers slippery and amazing when her hands crept toward the back of his hair. She wanted to clutch onto his locks, to run her fingers through his hair to have him as desperate for her as he had made her. She couldn't be the only one getting excited in a situation like this, and her breathing was fast, erotic, in the way her chest rose and dipped.

 _More, more, more, more_ her mind greedily chanted at the feeling of his hands touching her, of his lips kissing her and their tongues meeting the other each time they backed away and came for more. She was practically all over him, the fear of being outside forgotten when it was dark and secluded as it was, and what could have been minutes felt like hours when she was here with him.

Italy was having a similar problem that was going to get more physical if he didn't stop soon. His member was hardening when in the presence of her soft, curvaceous body on his begging for more and moaning in such a breathy voice. She felt perfect in his arms, her compliance making him hot and bothered by how easily Germany swayed to sexual pleasure. He was getting incredibly hard, and the desire to take it slow was going to be more difficult to control than he thought when she was already poisoning his mind this much.

Eventually, they came to a point where they couldn't do anything for the sake of public decency, the radiating heat they had caused enough for the annoyance of clothes, and they had to back away. They caught their breaths to take a pause and reflect on what this would mean for both of them. If there was any doubt they wanted each other now, it would be pointless to argue about it when they were both straining to not push the limit a little more. But here in the garden, they couldn't do much more than kiss in the fear that someone could pass by and see them. It was only because they were as far away from prying eyes that Germany felt comfortable enough to do what she did, and it took no genius to figure out where they needed to go if they wanted to do anything more.

She let out a little, breathless stream of chuckles, her blue eyes resplendent from the lights. Her irises were as clear as the water and pooled with just as much hidden longing, and he also smiled at their situation. He never thought it would end up like this.

She carefully backed away realizing that they couldn't just make out for the rest of the night in front of this fountain. She pulled his jacket over her shoulders feeling exposed to what she had just allowed herself to get swept by.

Being alone with a man when in the knowledge that he wanted her sexually felt so much different than when being with a friend. It made her aware of her body in ways that she wouldn't have before, his thoughts about her very suddenly important.

"We should go to the house," she suggested.

 _I think I'm going to accomplish my order tonight. I_ , her heart thundered, _will probably lose my virginity if this goes where I believe it does._

"We should. It's getting late," he agreed, taking this time to let his systems calm down and appear normal again. It would be uncomfortable to walk around with a hard-on.

"R-Right." She leaned down to gather the fallen flowers to not meet his eyes and turned around to lead them away. Italy caught up to her and they didn't talk, Germany looking at the ground and replaying what happened a thousand times in her head. She wanted to get home quicker, to get back to where they were but knew she had to be patient. Surely if she was in desire, Italy was worse. He had waited the entire night to kiss her.

Her eyes widened. _Wait! This was a date! How could I have not seen it?!_

It all made sense to her now. Buying flowers was not coincidental. Going to that restaurant had been suspicious, even more so when he paid for the bill. Then he got her ice cream which was nice, but then he got her chocolate which was her favorite. Maybe it was a lucky guess, but then when he bought her sandals, she should have known that this wasn't normal guy friend behavior. Men don't just casually get on their knees and take off your shoes to then lead you alone at night into a beautiful garden. It was all planned and she had fallen right into his trap when she accepted his jacket.

She wasn't going to take it off. He did say to give it back to him when they made it to her house. The least he could do was walk her to the door.

They came across the roads to her house soon, and she was so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed he wasn't talking. She didn't know what to say either so she just walked on the inside of the sidewalk wondering what he was going to do once they reached her doorstep.

They found her house, and she reached for her key. "We're back," she supplied to hear her voice. She steeled herself. This was the moment of truth. If she told him goodnight and closed the door, then that would end the chances of them going further tonight. She could put off their wants for an unknown, indefinite amount of time. Or, she could invite him inside and let him know that she didn't mind the company tonight.

But she knew her answer. It was clear what she had to do.

Rimmed in the moonlight in his jacket, she turned to him.

"Come inside."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually a little hesitant to post this chapter. I feel like the date was just a little bit too much...? I don't know. Italy is the reason I have unrealistic standards for romance. He didn't have to be this extra for the order, but here we are. 
> 
> On the brighter side, the smut is finally here! I teased a little bit of it at the end, but there's definitely more to come in the next chapter. Look forward to some heavy word-count smut scenes soon ;)
> 
> I took some creative liberties in this chapter in terms of distance also. I researched the actual city of Frankfurt to see where relative locations were when planning the date and oh boy, are Italy and Germany walking. It is what it is. Italy had something VERY pressing to do.
> 
> All comments are loved as always! Kudos and bookmarks and follows are all super rad, and it means a lot to me. You guys aren't going to want to miss the next chapter so stay tuned for the next update!


	5. And So the Night Encrouches

Italy saw Blackie still asleep when he entered and took off his shoes following her. That was fortunate for them as he didn't wake up even when they shut the door and placed their shoes on the front step. Italy settled her Mary Janes down, and Germany removed the new sandals to finally freely walk with her feet on the wooden floor. It was a relief on her soles, and she was glad to be back indoors.

Walking toward the bay window by the end of the illuminated passageway, she took a vase with water and arranged the bouquet to her liking, her fingers busied with the placement of the stems to ignore the more pressing issue thick in the air. The flowers were just as pretty as she imagined they would be, and alone by the window, they were lovely.

She shrugged off his coat once done and handed it carefully to him, the atmosphere different when remembering that she had been moaning into his mouth only minutes ago. It was as if maybe it hadn't happened, a memory desultory in the figments of imagination, but the way her chest constricted told her that it had been very much real and not a daydream. It couldn't have been faked, and she didn't meet his eyes.

"Here's your coat back. Thank you for lending it to me," she said, hoping she didn't sound desperate.

He had a look of disappointment when she glanced up at his expression.

"Is something wrong?"

He tilted his head slightly. "It's a shame. I wanted to be the one to take the coat off of you."

 _W-What?!_ she short-circuited by the forward flirting. _Was he holding back because we were in public? Is he usually this direct?_

She blushed once more and pointed a finger at him. "You idiot! You can't just say things like that!"

He smiled amused. "Why not? It's the truth."

She floundered for a rebuttal. It was her truth too. If he had taken it off of her instead, she wouldn't have minded.

He walked forward, and she stepped backward lowering her hand. They played a little game of her trying to get away from him with slow steps until her back met the wall. She swallowed the trouncing in her throat when she had nowhere else to go, wanting still in place despite how much she wished she could deny it. He was in front of her, their slight height difference showing itself by the three inches he had on her, and she couldn't help but be drawn into his eyes again. She had been doing that a lot tonight, but she couldn't tear her look anywhere else when it was as captivating as it was.

"Want to know something else?" he asked now that she was cornered and still with that cute look of trying to hide her excitement.

"What?"

The hairs of her neck rose up in sudden alarm at the feeling of his lips going near her lower ear, his voice so suddenly close as if his words were a secret for only the two of them.

"I want to take something more than just your jacket off."

"There's nothing stopping you," she replied quietly.

It didn't take long for their mouths to meet, and she shut her eyes just wanting to see where this would go. She was without a doubt nervous. She was by no means as amorous as Italy, too tone-deaf to have picked up that he had been courting her throughout the night apparently, and she didn't want to mess up. But eagerness washed over the anxiety because regardless as to how it turned out, it felt good, _really_ good, and that was all that mattered when they kissed as if they had never stopped from before. It became more heated than before without the barriers of social decorum.

His hands returned to cup her face, her mouth opening when he asked for entrance again, and she was submerged deep into the water of prurience. She was sinking into him, her weight heavy to make it difficult to stand up properly. She didn't know when Italy had gotten this assertive, something about the idea of sex making him a different person, and she wasn't quite sure how to feel about this change.

It was widely welcomed because two awkward and clumsy people trying to get anything going would surely be painful and not nearly as exhilarating but it did make her wonder what it was about this that drew out this confidence from. Was this how he was underneath? Had been holding back for longer than just tonight to do this? Was there something more to his character than she once assumed?

She didn't know, she didn't know, but what she did know was that she loved it.

"Mmm, Italy," she moaned softly when both of his hands went down her waist and hugged her figure. Unlike before, his fingers brushed against her breasts, her nipples hard and poking through the thin blouse. It was a mere brush, a fleeting touch that wasn't forceful but noted by her when she was as sensitive as she was. His thumb rolled soft circles into her navel, the curling from before returning at full force to drive her to a tizzy. Her stomach coiled at the flatness of his wide thumb swirling into her, his firm chest on hers as she was backed into the wall and forced to stay in place.

 _Why can't I resist what's going on? Am I drunk?_ Normally she would hate for anyone to tell her what to do but when Italy pressed against her and took control of the kiss, she couldn't care less. 

Seeing as he was getting handsy, she figured she should as well. She wrapped her arms around his neck to pick up where they had left off, and as their tongues met, their breaths mingled, she lightly trailed up her nails up the base of his neck. She gently went up the back of his head with her nails then tangled into his locks.

When Italy felt her hands through his hair, his cock sprung up. It went straight to his member, Germany's nimble hands sending a strong rush of blood to his dick. It was enough to make him slightly groan and breathe out heavily. She was toying with him to a degree he didn't think she understood.

Her grip on his scalp made him want to buck into her and grind. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to rut against her and hear her moan, her scent and body driving him crazy when adding the buzzing, electrifying shivers of when she ran her hands across his head. It felt good to be wanted back, Germany proper but not proper enough to not reveal hidden salacious thoughts.

He broke away from her lips to focus on her neck, the throat not neglected when he went to her side and pressed hot kisses down the smooth, pale curvature of her beating skin. She swore he could feel her pulse on his lips, her heart everywhere, and she tilted by reflex so that he could have what he wanted.

"You make cute sounds," he remarked, liking the way she had moaned his name. He wanted more.

This made her embarrassed. "I-I do not."

His breath cast onto her, hot and heavy, but not without intent. His proximity made everything hypersensitive so that she was highly aware of every single movement. He was inching toward her jaw, Germany tilting her head upward at his persistence to make her so weak, his lips meeting hers as his hands brushed against her large, heaving breasts.

He chuckled lightly. "Yes, you do. You make very cute sounds. Moan for me again."

"And just why would I do that?" she questioned swallowing at the new sensation of his palms teasing her chest. He was mocking her by building up furious arousal within her, his lack of commitment fueling insatiable desire deep in the heat of her core. Impatience furled deeply within her, the foreplay running her imagination wild at what could become of them if he just did what he hinted at. With even something as tame as this, her underwear was uncomfortable in how hot and sticky it had become in between her thighs. If she shifted her hips, she would feel the moisture rub against her outer labia, her womanhood pulsing with a frantic heartbeat.

"You don't have to hide it. You can moan as much as you like." He hummed, his Adam's apple moving and entrancing her. "I like it."

She answered by reaching for his tie and loosening it. She jostled the black fabric slightly left to right, her hands knowing what to do after seeing Prussia do this for so many years in front of a mirror. His tie loosened quickly, and she undid the ends so that it hung limply around his collar. She slid it off his neck and placed his tie on the table with the vase so that she could focus on the pesky buttons getting in the way of touching him. She folded his tie since she hated anything to be out of order, and if her attention to detail was annoying, he didn't say anything about it as she made a neat rectangle out of his necktie.

Seeing his tie orderly made her pleased and when she looked back at him, he had a face of amusement. Thinking he was making fun of her, she felt a need to justify herself.

"What? There's no excuse for a mess."

He wasn't bothered by it all that much. "It's fine. It's just another cute thing about you."

Perhaps she sought acceptance more than she thought because she felt warm when he said that. She went to his collar and unbuttoned. Slowly, tan skin was revealed in the light. She caught sight of a golden cross across his clavicle and was reminded that she still had his military cross hidden away in a drawer. Now around his neck was a beautiful piece of jewelry that was simple in design but made with just as much care. It blended well with his skin. She liked it.

She gave him a little smile looking back up at him, and Italy was left stricken for a moment. His heart skipped at her expression, her hands going down on his chest. Her nimble fingers undid the small beige buttons of his shirt with efficiency, the opening widening to broaden the v-shape narrowing down on his torso. Down she went, every inch of skin revealed enticing in how the shadows danced across the flat planes of his pectorals. They were more defined than they would have imagined.

 _Has he leaned out?_ she wondered. Sinewing and taught, smooth and distending, his chest and shoulders were a dichotomy of intumescent muscle and flat plains. Color spread across the bridge of her nose in the thrill that came with having sight of his body so close to touch.

_Maybe the training I've been giving him did have some effect._

His stomach was flat with the definition of where a small set of abs were. She had been expecting softness to his body, perhaps his physique just lean since the war made his usual diet go into a caloric deficit, but now she was realizing that when in the combination of her hellish training and non-fatty foods, it would only be natural for his body to adjust itself in this way. Abs weren't all that impressive to her since they could easily be gained when skinny enough, but it was more so the implications of them that enticed her.

She had trained him hard enough to make a real physical change to his body. Germany remembered how he used to look like when the war first began. Weak and indistinct, where bone met soft skin had been a manifestation of his undemanding, meandering lifestyle that came and went with work. In the twenties he was desperate for a job, his hands having turned rough then, but then there was talk of greatness and war upon entering the new decade. And it was then that she saw just how unprepared Italy was.

Barely able to do a push-up, couldn't even do a pull-up, nor properly shoot, that was how Italy had entered. Slow when forced to run, feet dragged to only care about ice cream and sleeping, and then even worse when talking to Japan beside him jogging. He tripped, cried, and whined. He was nothing of his grandfather's memory.

But that was slightly different now. For all the show Italy put up during their training sessions, he always did them to the end. He, if only not motivated by fear, would be a great soldier.

It caused her to feel some sort of way. Pride and melancholy entered when observing the linea alba of his stomach, the tendinous inscription between the ab muscle contoured in a shadow.

_He looks nice but at what cost?_

She placed her finger on the visible dividing line and ran her touch down to confirm the reality of his body. She felt the way his skin molded around to the slight muscle, at how lean he was too for there to be hints of a v-line leading down to his pelvis. If he were to do more isolation training it would dramatically jut out, but yet even like this with his hip bones protruding and teasing as to what was below, it pleased her. For all it was, he was healthy.

So much so, that she became red when she took a good look at what was below his belt.

He couldn't help that she made him get so hard. Germany wasn't incredibly vocal, but she was more handsy than he would have imagined, her expression and lingering gaze igniting a fire underneath his skin. The electricity of her touch made his member desperately throb, every brush against his body making his mind run a mile a minute at the possibilities of what else her hands could do, what else that pretty little mouth could do. Such expressive, blue eyes lowered in thoughtfulness. Germany didn't know how much she enticed him.

The last button of his shirt came off, and there was something Germany was fascinated by. She hadn't meant to toy with him, but when she hovered up near his neck, she pressed her palms flat on his collarbone and slid her hands across his chest to feel the ridges of his protruding clavicle. Her hands went across in warmth, and she slid down the long sleeves of his shirt while feeling his arms carefully. She felt the way his biceps rounded in her hold, how his forearm thickened in a way that wasn't outrageously swollen, but yet different than her. She craved to feel how else they were different, Germany running her hands back up his arms and admiring his body with sweeping eyes.

"You certainly feel different than you appear," she observed with a tone of _and I sure like it._

His shirt fell to the ground from where she had pushed it down, and she was about to lean over and pick it up when something came over Italy and made him take her by and press her body right against his so that she felt his raging erection. She couldn't think straight when his hold was so possessive on her, his lips peppering on her neck as he reached for the buttons on her own shirt.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he said as if to justify the brevity of his actions. 

She felt breathless at the stiff warmth poking her lower stomach, and if she wasn't careful, there wasn't going to be much more time for careful and slow. No, no, patience was being lost by the way his voice husked, how easily she submitted to be pinned by the wall, and let him force himself onto her. She was weak to the knees when trying to battle his hands all over her, his cock straining for freedom, and yet still kissing her and talking lowly.

With a skipped beat in her womanhood, she gained an idea. She carefully shifted her hips toward his member and pulled back, the proximity of his clothed shaft enough for her to feel something through her trousers, and she immediately craved more. Her stomach coiled from the frisson of excitement that spiral within her, and one time wasn't enough, Germany moving again to feel the burst of pleasure that came with humping a little bit.

 _This feels really good,_ she thought, clouded by the desire to have him deeper in her. She wanted to have him inside, the tease of his cock making her go mad as she whimpered slightly and rolled her hips because it felt so intoxicating.

 _"Germania,_ you're torturing me," Italy groaned at her insistence to be a sadist and leave him in destitution at the desire to have her right here and now. His hands went toward her ass, her plump rear felt and enough to make her moan innocently. She ducked her head feeling how fast her heart was beating when he spoke her name in Italian and simply did what he wanted to do with her. He reciprocated by shifting as well into her, Germany hard-pressed to let this end now when she felt more slick gather in between her legs. It rubbed against her underwear in uncomfortable heat, her mind clouded, clouded, clouded as if in smoke, and she let saliva gather back under her tongue, the sound sticky.

"Let's go to my room," she panted, putting a hand to his chest to push him back gently. "Let's not do this here."

The problem was that her room was upstairs and that meant time and distance.

"Do you want to go to the guest bedroom?"

"No. I feel more comfortable in my own bed."

He gained a boyish smile. He tapped her forehead with his own getting excited about something. It reminded her more of what she was used to when he got gleeful about things like sugar cookies and football, and she knew he was going to request something.

"What?"

"Hey, hey, wrap your legs around me."

She stared at him as if he was crazy. "Are you serious? There's no way you're going to be able to carry me upstairs."

He slightly pouted at being rejected. "Why not? You haven't even tried. Please?"

"I'm too heavy for you," she refuted. _I just ate too. I'm not exactly light right now._

His hand went underneath her thigh. "What are you talking about? You're not too heavy! Don't be silly."

"You're going to drop me," she stated the obvious.

"Never." He seemed awfully serious when saying it, maybe offended, maybe not, but she felt herself cracking a bit. When his shirt was off like this, she was able to see that conditioning and training was paying off. He wasn't as muscular as he could be, but she wasn't sure if that was just his genetics at that point.

She gave a small sigh. She tightened her hold around his neck and glared. "If this fails, I'm going to kill you."

He smiled at the acceptance and braced himself to uplift her. "Ve, don't worry, I won't! I promise I won't let you fall!"

She jumped and wrapped her legs around his core quickly, her eyes shutting at the reality of leaving the ground, and she waited for the moment his arms would buckle and she would land flat on her ass. Instead, she remained in the air, her body's core resting on his navel with one of his forearms on her upper thigh and the other on her back to steady her. She felt the size of his hand on her shoulder blades, and she blushed slightly when opening her eyes at how close his fingers were to groping her ass. He slid his palm down her back until both of his hands were supporting the meat of her thickened thighs. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, their faces close enough to kiss again, and she looked at him amazed when her arms loosened around his neck to not death grip him. He wasn't trembling to hold her up, and they were strangely stable.

"See? I told you I wouldn't drop you," he said proudly. He waited for her praise, his happiness contagious, and something settled at the sight of him awaiting her response so eagerly. 

Her stomach swirled pleasantly. She leaned forward slightly having a little fun by being taller than him at the moment and weightless. "Oh yeah? And how are you going to go up the stairs?"

He spun her around causing her to yelp. His laugh echoed in the foyer as he went in a circle, and she inadvertently tightened her hold on his waist fearing he would drop her. She got slightly dizzy from their movements, and she thumped his back.

"Stop spinning, you _dummkopf!_ " she commanded light to the chest. The butterflies from before fluttered to her ribcage, and her voice betrayed her words as she couldn't help the adoration that shone through.

He was still smiling, and he was incredibly overjoyed when he stopped. "You have such little faith in me! Up the stairs we go," he sang, finally getting to the point and going on the first step. Because she was on his waist, going up wasn't as much of a hassle as she would have thought. Feeling his waist slightly shift with every step up against her womanhood made it difficult to not get slightly aroused. Her pants made it easy to feel everything that it rubbed against, and it just so happened that when she was spreading her legs as far as this, her clit was easier to tease. The friction against her womanhood and display of strength made her entrance get a little wetter, and so she rewarded him by gliding her hands down his throat and caressing the curvature of his neck until she met the roundness of his firm shoulders.

She hummed as she did so, nice and low, as she trailed up kisses up his neck to nibble on his earlobe. She felt his breathing quicken, her hands languidly touching his biceps as her large, soft breasts squished against his chest.

"Thank you, _Italia_ ," she emphasized in a hot breath, "You're very good to me. These arms are strong aren't they," she whispered, stroking his ego a bit. She would normally never say that, but that was the danger wasn't it, the hold on her upper thighs tightening.

She shifted her hips slightly upward because she wanted something to rub on, and to make it harder on him, she sighed pleased when running her hands through his hair.

"Very, very good to me," she affirmed, finding this to be amusing.

 _No wonder Italy gets a kick out of this,_ she thought, hearing him struggle to maintain composure and not drop her when his brain was fogged up by the presence of her. It was a miracle he didn't drop her when she was being as coy as he was, Germany breathlessly giggling and touching him. 

They made it up the stairs in one piece, her door open since she never closed it unless she was inside, and this made entering so much easier than having to turn the knob. They entered the bedroom and then she was being lowered on her mattress. It happened so fast, one moment her body in midair by the hold of his waist, the next her back supine on the sheets as she stared up at Italy hovering over her. She was planted back to reality, to gravity where now she remained low. She was right underneath him, and her breathing quickened too at the implications of what could happen on a bed like this alone at night.

And when Italy looked down at her, he knew exactly what he wanted to do to her on this bed. With her cheeks flushed to a rosy tint across her cheeks, she shyly turned her face to the side. The smooth, wonderful curve of her neck was exposed by the lack of hair obscuring her skin, a brush against her throat enough to make her inhale quickly at how sensitive she was. Her blue irises glimmered slightly underneath the light of her lamp, a golden hue cast across the planes of her face as she tilted and blushed. Everything about her was pretty, pretty, pretty, the need to compliment her overwhelming when observing her.

"You're so beautiful. I don't know if you know how gorgeous of a woman you are," he said honestly.

She was stunned for a moment. Sure back when she used to be in the palace she would have nobles say all kinds of comments about her appearance, say it was a shame she turned out to be such a brute when she had so much potential, but she had never paid it any mind. She hadn't cared for hedonistic men who could see nothing past the budding of her breasts.

Logically, what Italy was doing wasn't different. He too obviously wanted her to spread her legs. But what separated this from any other blandishment was that she wanted to hear it from him. So much so that when he rolled it off his tongue with no hesitation, she at that moment believed it to be true.

And that left her not knowing what to say. This was something no guidebook had ever prepared her for, and she was certain these gestures weren't needed for intercourse.

"You don't have to lay it on thickly for me," she played down because she secretly wanted to hear more but dying before admitting it to him.

But this just confused him. "What do you mean?"

She shifted her leg. "You don't need to say things like that because you feel the need to. I'm not...a human woman."

She was awful emoting what she meant. Hopefully, Italy would understand what she was trying to say despite how awkward it came out.

"No, you need to know. It's not laying it on thick if it's just the truth," he replied, smiling at her. "And you're right. You're not a human woman. You're Germany. A very," he cupped her face, "very strong yet stunning nation. So let me treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

She leaned into his palm without intending to, her legs closing up at the reverberations buzzing through her womanhood. _Oh,_ how she wanted to grind, her bra and pants in the way of everything. She absolutely melted at the tone of his voice, Veneziano's voice surrounding her in a blanket of safety and lust when he was as close as he was in the dimness of the room.

 _Does that make me his woman?_ she immediately craved. She got wetter, and she didn't understand why this was so arousing to her. She swallowed slightly and continued down her fantasy of domination to see if her body would have the same reaction, surely not someone like _her_ submissive. She was Germany. Italy shouldn't be having this effect on her, but the more she thought about him taking her by the waist or flipping her over so that they could get to it already, the more arousal thrummed through her veins. Pulsating covetousness struck through, her mind dimming at the frenetic predilection for him.

"That's quite a promise," she murmured.

"And one I hold myself to live up to,” he agreed. When he curved his hand up her thighs, her heart picked up at a rapid pace at the pressing thumb nearing the inner softness of her thigh that couldn't be removed despite how toned she was. It was proof they were very much different, her thick thighs soft to the touch despite the material in between their skin, and his fingers were itching to start removing clothes. His arm was making movements too, and she realized the reality of where things were heading.

"Wait, Italy," she said quickly, losing the excitement from before to tell him something pressing.

He heard her urgency, her tone not coy but serious to indicate something wrong, and he slowed down.

"What's wrong?" he asked concerned.

“...I don’t know how this works."

She was mortified to admit it. She had never been taught about such things, Prussia just as awkward and virginal and never inclined to talk about sex with her. Although she thought dirty things about her shirtless soldiers sometimes, she didn't know _what_ sex actually meant. It was just a desire, an impulse in her that wanted to be explored but always ignored and repressed due to responsibilities and lack of resources.

"You don't know how what works?"

"S-Sexual intercourse," she admitted awkwardly hating that she had inherited both of her brothers' stuffiness.

“You don’t know what sex is?” Italy asked, really wondering how that was possible. Perhaps for an unmarried human, he could see how that was possible but for a country…!

“I know what sex is!” She wasn't that hopeless. She turned her cheek to the pillow. “I mean...is it really that simple to get pregnant? Do you really...just stick it in?”

Italy shouldn’t be smiling or laughing at her but her innocence was endearing. She knew point B. But she didn’t know how people _got_ to point B. To her sex was just penetration, ejaculation, then pregnancy. But what happened in between, how that was instigated, or perhaps the most important, how it was pleasurable enough for people to seek it out for reasons besides procreation was beyond her.

“No, not yet,” he said, realizing how much gentler he had to be with her. It set his heart in a flame at the amount of trust she had in him to take her virginity away, something setting his chest to become tumid at the love and pride he had to be Germany’s first. “That comes at the end.”

“It does?” She wondered what else there could be in between that time. Any time she saw one of her soldiers getting frisky, they were always getting straight to the point and fornicating. That was what she had just been doing for goodness' sake!

“Yes, it does. Do you think I’m just going to start ramming into you right away?”

“I don’t know. My orders were just to get pregnant. That is how you get pregnant!”

“Are you nervous?”

This was all too new to her. She knew how to kill someone. She knew how to interrogate a prisoner until they were on the brink of death. She did not know how to be a lover.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I’m not sure I’m doing this right.”

A tilt of the head came as he peered down at her in the light. "Just do what feels right." He gently tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and looked down at her carefully. "There's no real wrong way to do it. Let yourself not think about it so much — it's supposed to feel good. If something doesn't, you have to tell me. I don't want to hurt you."

There was a comfortable sense of understanding between the two of them, Italy not rushing to begin right away, and this gave her time to at least sort herself out briefly.

"I have to ask…"

"What is it?" he asked with wide eyes, Germany's heart bursting when she glanced at the deep amber peering above her.

"During the Great War, you said I shouldn’t shoot you because you were a virgin. Were you just saying that in panic or are you actually a virgin?”

Italy didn't remember saying that. He was surprised she recalled what he said so accurately, her need to have that stored in her memory rather useless with all things considered. It made him wonder if she remembered everything he said.

"A little bit of both. I wasn't lying. You were terrifying," he answered sheepishly.

"And has that changed?"

"...Um, yes," he didn't lie, not wanting to get in-depth with it now since he was supposed to be focusing on Germany and not the first woman he bedded in the '20s.

"I see."

"Does that bother you?" He hoped she wouldn't have a problem with it, or worse a grand idea about both of them being virgins. It would only make him feel terrible at the self-imposed infidelity.

She moved her leg. "No. It makes logical sense for you to no longer be a virgin. It's been thirty years." Her brows furrowed. "Did you wear protection when consummating?"

Italy turned a little red. This wasn't exactly the conversation he expected to be having with her but when she was asking seriously as always, it seemed more like a simple inquiry.

"Um...no…"

Her eyes lit up. "Did you get them pregnant?"

"I-I don't know! I didn't see those girls again!" he replied, feeling so strange to talk about that with Germany. It sounded bad now that he said it, as if he did them and then left them, but surely she wouldn't internalize it —

"So you don't know if you're potent," she gathered disappointed. She looked up at the ceiling. "This order may be impossible to complete. There's no reason for a nation to be fertile."

"Are you doing this just because of the order?"

"Why else would I be doing this?"

"So, if I did this, it wouldn't mean anything?" he asked close to her lips, their bodies mere centimeters away. A couple of seconds passed by, one, two, she didn't know, and he then took her lips. Her heart was pounding right through her chest, her senses hyper-aware of everything that was him, and the most terrifying part was _how nice it was._

She let him kiss her, her cheeks flushing in rapid arousal, and she couldn't help but soften toward him when he kissed her so passionately, with intent, with skill, and his lips were soft, molding themselves to hers that couldn't help but move back. Before she could fully understand what was going on, he backed away slowly to breathe.

"So it means nothing?" he asked again.

_Of course, it means nothing. Even if it were Japan, France, Russia, or anyone else, I would have to do this regardless. I can't actually want Italy...love and war aren’t possible..._

"It doesn't mean anything," she responded quietly getting red again when he lowered himself on her and took her lips again regardless of her answer, her mouth eager to pick up back where they had left off. There was more kissing now, Germany feeling the familiar sensation of excitement travel through her core. Her head was swimming, her senses buzzed and in the same haze as when drunk, and the inebriation of feeling Italy’s body on top of hers shouldn’t have felt as intoxicating as it should have been. With her back on the mattress and Italy hovering over her, it should have made her instincts panicked to be domineered, but she didn’t mind it for a single second, this feeling right. Never would she have thought being in a weak position would make her so...

"All for the order," he voiced her thoughts as if to smile at the untrueness of the words.

"Exactly. Finally, you understand," she said, glad to be on the same page.

"Ah, then what was that up the stairs?" he reminded.

She was caught. "A test."

He actually laughed a little, his ease making her less anxious. His good mood was infectious, and she didn't understand how he could go from being serious to the loving idiot she saw every day. "That was mean! Did I pass or fail?"

She fake considered it. "Your endurance has improved a lot. But I will still have to fail you."

He lowered himself on her slightly, Germany catching his muscles flex in the low light and feeling a pang in her core again. His chain hung off his neck, the glimmer of gold catching the reflection of light as it dangled in front of her. It swayed slightly from the forces of gravity, and she watched it with growing redness to her cheeks. She didn't mind that he no longer wore the silver cross anymore. 

He inches toward her blouse again. "Then how can I pass?"

They were wearing too many clothes for all the heat residing between them, and she followed the trail of his fingers when he slowly started to untuck her blouse. The thin fabric easily unwrinkled itself out of her waistband, the blouse loosening from his doing as his fingers traversed back up the top button holding her shirt together. The heat of his hands was dangerously close to her breasts, Germany acutely aware of how easily he could touch her and see her hardened nipples through the bra, and she waited in bated breath for when he would finally undress her.

"First, actually get my shirt off," she instructed since this was easier for her to understand. If all she had to do was order him on what she wanted to happen, then perhaps this mission was going to go much smoother than she anticipated.

"You're so impatient," he teased doing what she said despite his alacritous tone.

"Says the one who stuck his tongue down my throat in the garden!" she couldn't help but defend herself.

He laughed, his laughter sweet and airy to shuffle the butterflies in her stomach.

"Ve, you got me. But can you blame me? It's not exactly easy to concentrate with you around."

"I-I'm sure," she responded ignoring his verbal tic. Slowly, cold air touched her skin as her shirt was gently pried open by his fingers. Her collarbone protruded delicately underneath her peachy skin in the glow of the low golden light, the shadows of her body molded into her as he saw the dip of her clavicle when she breathed. The flat planes of her chest plate led his eyes down the converging mass of her breasts that became revealed with every button undone.

His eyes greedily soaked in the wonderful sight of her large, pale breasts flush against one another in the middle of her basic black bra, her boobs touching innocently in their sheer size and volume. Her buoyant, soft chest was confined to the awful doings of her brassier, and his mouth dried up slightly in how much larger she actually was, the brief glances he had gotten from the few times she took her shirt off for training not measuring to this when she was right underneath him.

The thin straps resting by her shoulders were far more delicate than they should be, the little black lines guiding the eye down to where her large, perky breasts rose and dipped as she breathed slightly quicker.

He couldn't help himself and undid the rest of her shirt to see her entire torso, and once at the bottom, he ripped open her shirt to see the entirety of her body below him.

When he was as focused and quiet as he was, Germany wondered what he had going on through his head as she revealed her flaws and all. It undoubtedly made her aroused to know she had all of his attention, her natural assets mesmerizing to him, and it caused her to blush at his eyes staring at her unclothed. She was a bit colder due to her shirt being undone, but his gaze made her hot regardless, his stare roaming down her body in a state of hunger.

And hungry Italy was in sight of her body. Her breasts were softly painted in black from her bra, her nipples hard through the rationed material that didn't provide enough padding to obscure her arousal. They formed little points through her undergarment and when he brushed his fingers against the band of her bra, he saw how her soft, milky breasts rose up from her inhale. They were clear of any blemishes and smooth all the way around, a perfect, large size once trailing the eye down to her skinny waist. Germany's ribcage poked through slightly when she was lying on her back, her abs defined in the shadows of the light.

Her curved, smooth waist undulated onto wide, shapely hips, her thighs thick from muscle. It was the pretty little hour-glass figure so many women wanted, Germany perhaps not knowing how coveted her shape truly was. She for a moment reminded him of those pin-up models on posters hidden away in the barracks, and when he looked down at her, he could see it now.

He needed to paint her.

The desire to have her figure depicted surged through, sight alone fleeting in the ephemerality of memory. If he could not paint her, then he would have to sculpt her, the forms and physicality of her warm, breathing body so lovely when feeling how she shuddered and pinkened from his caresses. Just as he would take a piece of marble and carve, he felt the presence of her with a hum to relish in the most wondrous art of all, Germany's body that allured in vitality and strength.

Her waist was the perfect size for his hands to grab onto, his palm gliding down the smooth flatness of her stomach to hold and feel. Her skin dipped and succumbed into his touch, her body warm, and when holding onto her like this, he felt how thin she was, how fragile she could be. She was shorter than him, softer than him, and as he now clearly saw, very much a woman. Germany had the beautiful dips and curves of one, her hips shifting telling him that she enjoyed the size and heat of his hands on her as if to handle her.

When his thumb and forefinger could wrap around her waist as he was, she was helpless to his touch that could take hold of her so easily. If he wanted to move her, he could, the strength from before on the stairs not forgotten from when he had surprised her by how light she apparently was to him. It was ironic in how she, his unapproachable, stern commander, was the one submitting to him, her body slowly becoming more vulnerable to danger as every moment passed.

And she loved it.

_Touch me more._

Instead of fulfilling her desire to have him touch her breasts already, he went back down to where her hips were. He wanted all annoying clothes off of her as he undid the buttons of her pants and pulled them down. She helped him by raising her legs up so that her feet wouldn't get in the way of making the transition awkward and when in sight of her in nothing but her bra and underwear, he couldn't believe this was really her. Her pants fell somewhere on the floor, no time for caring how it was folded, and she took note of that.

As he went to her feet to take off her thin dress socks, she commented on it.

"You didn't have to drop my pants on the ground. I folded your clothes. Give me them to put them away properly —"

He wanted her more than her need for orderliness. Her socks came off the same way her pants did, and they went somewhere on the floor too.

He ignored her in favor of finally caressing her bare thighs. Germany from her weeks of inactivity in the war front had smoothened out her skin tone. Instead of strange bruises rimming around her knees and shins, her legs were an even tone. When he sunk his palms up her thick thighs, his hands were unable to grab all of her, and she felt like heaven. Her face of discontent instantly morphed into one of surprised pleasure. He smiled watching her get antsy from when he rolled his thumbs near her inner thighs again and toyed with her by running his hands in everywhere but the places she desired.

And aroused Germany was when he did so. His lack of care for order annoyed her but when she felt his palms on her, his skin on her, his size on her, she was shut up again because oh god, it felt amazing to be held. When he dug his nimble, wide thumb into her inner thigh and made small circles while brushing up to her waist and cupping her breasts as if to _finally_ grope, she went mad.

"You feel nice," he commented wishing he could have done this sooner. "So, so, very nice, Germany." 

_Is he going to make me beg for it?_ she wondered never having felt this painfully aroused before. Her imagination was running wild with anticipation as to what he would do to her, and she felt her heart about to burst through her clit. She wanted more. She wanted so much more, Germany mewling while spreading her legs open.

"Do you have…some obsession with my thighs?" she asked wondering why he seemed so fixated on them.

He smiled at her. "Thick thighs show you're healthy." He moved away from them to not make her more frustrated. "You're so athletic yet so soft," he marveled in how amazing the body of a woman truly was. She was so powerful yet still so fragile. Her skin was bouncier than his, smooth to glide against and shining slightly in the light from the lotion she placed.

"Still so pretty," he murmured, going up her sides to meet the underwire of her bra. She arched slightly as an involuntary response, wandering hands going up her back to search for the band of her bra. A flat palm traveled up the ridge of her spine, carefully, knowingly, up the smooth beginnings of her back. Up her toned back, he went with a hand that could cover almost the entirety of her body, a gliding of hot skin against skin that caused a flush up north and a pooling of moisture down below.

She lifted her torso slightly off the mattress up to help him, and she waited for the moment the restricting garment would come off. Behind her shirt, quick fingers tried to find the hooks of her bra to unclasp, and after a few attempts, the metal hooks were off. Her blouse was removed and dropped to the side of the bed as the straps of her bra fell limp across her shoulders. He peeled the bra off.

Her large breasts spilled out finally free from their cage. Pink nipples with even rounder areolas, the size of her mass was large even when lying down. From above, he could see her ample swelling, goosebumps around her aroused areolas to show her hard nubs. She was a rare candy, a sweet, sugary confectionery that was glutinous, avaricious, in his desire to have her all to himself. Like fruit, she came succulent and tender, lush and ripe at the prospect of finally blooming, yet at a deceptive price of her selectiveness. 

Germany’s natural inclination to preserve modesty showed through at the involuntary movement of her arms to cover herself. She tried to cover herself in self-effacement, her breasts squishing together briefly when she did so, but he didn’t allow herself to revert to timidity.

He took her hands away from shunning his view on her body and pushed them away gently. “No, let me see. Don’t hide your body away from me, Germany.”

She blushed at his tone. Captivated by her, she allowed his sweeping eyes to gaze at her with the wonder that came with nudity.

He held her wrists down briefly as he leaned down on her body. Once close enough to her, his palms rested on the warmth of her breasts. Underneath him in a shudder, Germany mewled once he took one of her breasts and groped. Soft, soft, soft, that was all he could think as the mass of her boobs came to his control. A melody of moans came once he dug his fingers into her and kneaded her without much warning.

In his right and left hands, he took her breasts and sunk his hold into her and felt the way her skin dipped and became pliant underneath his palm. The entirety of her breasts almost fit his entire hand but yet it didn’t, Germany supple. His wrists rolled and circled around her breasts gauging what Germany responded to best, and she felt like she was being punished somehow by how badly she wanted him to just take her.

Rough or softly, she wanted more. She wanted more, more, more, the lust pervading her senses insatiable when the texture of his hands rested against her soft breasts.

Her hands never felt like this when she groped herself. Her hands were too small, her fingers too thin, and her movements too predictable. When Italy touched her, it was just the right amount of pressure on her as he took control of her with his large hands and groped both of her breasts at the same time.

“You feel so soft,” he admitted brushing his lips against her collarbone, voice hushed and close to the quick beating of her heart where he trailed his mouth down to the center of her chest. He traveled down the small center of space in between her breasts, the flat sliver that indicated where her chest plate was since her breasts were large but not gravity defying.

Her internal body heat rose as the perspiration of his breath hit her. It was as if he was speaking directly to her heart and core essence.

“You even have nice pink nipples,” he noted taking his thumb and rolling over the hard nubs that didn’t stay down even when he applied force on them. They stood erect, and the swelling of them made him lightly pinch them.

She gasped not knowing how sensitive her nipples could be when it was someone else handling them. When she played with herself, there was never such an intense reaction. But when Italy pinched them, she felt a jolt of delicious electricity jolt down her to her clit, a throbbing need to no longer just perhaps get through with this, but to —

_Fuck me. Please fuck me._

The raunchy thought overwhelmed her even more when realizing how inappropriate that truly was, but her mind couldn’t help but desire the unspeakable. Fast and hard and passionate…

“Did that hurt?” he asked, not sure what to make of her sound.

“No,” she replied quickly. “Do it more.”

He smiled. “As you wish, commander.”

In his fingers, he took her right nipple and lightly pinched to have it slightly roll in between the pads of his fingers, and with the slight pressure, she became undone.

She shifted her head slightly to the right on the pillow imagining it, a face of pure, blissful delight as she flushed and moaned at the fantasy of perhaps being dominated by a subordinate — a lazy subordinate like Italy who only shined when it came to pleasuring her. She would have to put him in his place, Italy never good at following orders unless it was something as carnal as this. 

Back and forth they would go, giving and taking, and she moaned more when he took her nipple and tweaked it in his hand to only pull it back slightly to only grope. She felt her heart beating right below her ribs where his lips went down to her underwear.

He was jiggling her breasts while kissing down her body, her toes curling when his tongue licked up back to her breasts. A burst of new sensory excitement traveled through in an instant of surprised chagrin, a gasp overcoming her when Italy took her breasts into his mouth. As if to bite down into dessert he shouldn't be having, his mouth widened to give something suddenly slightly textured and yet smooth, slipperiness meeting her large breasts from where his tongue crawled toward her slightly abused nipples.

She looked down at him shocked, her eyes wide at the pleasure of something so dirty.

"W-What are you doing?" She couldn't help but not care at the same time. The sensation of something wet on the sensitivity of her breasts caused her to shake her legs slightly in impatience, her hand cradling Italy's head gingerly in the desire to have him near.

 _I should have known he was a pervert,_ she came to think in a passing moment. She lowered her eyelids in a haze of his tongue playing with her tits, her fingers tightening around his head.

_Ah, but I'm just as bad._

"Do you not like it?" He peered up at her in question. He couldn't read her mind so the movement of his tongue stopped, the saliva on her skin creating a sheen in the light of when he backed away, and the warmth of his mouth was removed from her flushed breasts. It was terrible, awful, absolutely dreadful, and most definitely unacceptable.

"You and your damn teasing," she growled with less ferocity than she wanted. She was far too red and breathy for it to be of any real threat. "I...I never said to stop."

"Oh, okay!" he replied, glad to have her not in pain or discomfort. The last thing he wanted was for her to be uncomfortable. She almost rolled her eyes at his chipperness, Italy at the end of the day still eager to please, and she loosened her hold on his head so he could move. He went back to her breasts, but instead of his hands focusing on her nipples, they glided down her stomach instead. Over her underwear, he traveled, his right hand finally over her pulsing vulva without hesitation. She was spreading wide for easy access, no time for more second-thoughts, and she felt a wonderful quickening from below in the presence of him _finally_ in between her legs.

Backing away from her chest to speak, he went down to meet her clit hidden behind underwear, and what a sight it was to see a dark, vertical strip on her light blue pair of underwear. A nice wet patch that stained her panties. Away from her actual opening down below, he rubbed at the sensitive clit at the hood of her pussy.

"How about here? Does it feel good here?"

And oh god, _she went wild._

"Get on with it!" she begged about to sob. She was aroused beyond comprehension, her pussy achingly empty and in need of something hard to split her apart _right now._

“No, you have to get nice and wet first,” he murmured enjoying how she squirmed, going below her underwear and touching her skin. His knuckles were seen stretching the fabric of her cotton underwear as he went down below her undergarments to pleasure, and he was drowned in the trapped heat of her smooth womanhood. He was surprised by how little hair he felt, and he couldn't hold back his amazement.

"Oh, Germany, you're soaked," he noted mostly to himself as he explored the entirety of her womanhood below her underwear. She felt just as soft as she seemed, her vagina about to suck him in, and she was an incoherent mess on the mattress. She was _hot, slippery_ , and easy to slide into as her walls caved around him the further he went inside of her. Ready for any kind of attention, he rubbed at her clit and went down on her in a steady motion of the wrist, her moans getting louder and needier with every second that passed. 

"You're insufferable," she panted. "You're — you're," _oh god yes right there!_ "You're intolerable." 

He prodded at her warm, soft inner labia, her breathing fast as she spread her thighs unconsciously and tilted her chin up. His fingers were long and skilled, digging into her with the perfect amount of pressure. There was something to be said about piano hands, those comments made with a blush about musically talented men finally understood by Germany as she felt how wide and dexterous his fingers could be.

The pads of his finger bounced rhythmically against her sensitive, plump vulva, a steady, torturous pulse digging slightly deeper into her as he alternated between rubbing inside of her vertically and going in circles with varying degrees of speed and pressure. It was as if he had a song in his head, her moans the notes he needed to make the opus complete, and she mewled into a loud gasp. Her stomach sucked in when he started to go faster in one particular spot that made her almost lose her mind, the delicious knot tightening to a point in which she was about to burst, and she no longer cared about what she said. 

"Please, please, _bitte_ _Italia, bitte,"_ she repeated in a state of delirium, switching from the universal language to German in a haze. She couldn't think straight, his hand going up her hips making her question how her body could become _this_ clouded in pleasure. With one hand on her waist, the other on her womanhood, electricity shot through at the amazing stimulation. She was dripping with slick, her pussy moist and shining from where he had been playing with her, and she would do anything he wanted if it just meant he would take her underwear off already, split her apart with something thicker, and stop reducing her to a wanton woman in her own sheets. 

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand not wanting to be too loud, her head tilting to the side as she shut her eyes and shifted her pelvis forward slightly by instinct. 

She never hated clothing more than she did right now, her legs spread wide, and the purpose of the small cloth covering her womanhood useless when the fluid of her pussy made everything about her body skin tight anyway. There was no guessing, no innocence. 

"It feels good doesn't it?" he asked knowing the answer. "Are you going to cum soon?"

"Y-Yes!" she cried with her head feeling light. "It feels good! I'm close, Italy, don't you dare stop!" 

What she didn't expect was for him to literally _grab her hips and pull her toward him._ She felt forcefully dragged across the mattress for a split moment, his hands on her hip bones and moving her so that she was closer to him, her core closer to his hard member, and the temperature rose when in proximity to his body. Her pussy fluttered at being tossed around a bit, the little shove to have her near maddening her lust, and she blushed already fantasizing how much better this night could be if he did that some more.

 _He didn't even ask me. Who does he think he is pushing me around?_ she thought wishing Italy was like this more. In a world where Italy was always assertive and attentive like this...that would surely be dangerous. He would be popular with so many more women. 

_He's mine._

That fierce thought shocked her. Uninhibited, it came out before she could deny her own subconscious. She looked to the side and suppressed it.

_Stop that. I'm supposed to be the one seducing him. So far I've been far too complacent._

"Kiss me," she said, needing to feel him against her so she could forget about what she had just revealed to herself. Without asking, she pulled him down to and kissed him again, what was meant to be a quick act of sex something more when their lips met and their tongues moved. Her womanhood pulsed, her clit _throbbing_ at how close the balloon in her core was too popping, and in breath and saliva they went, lips meeting and then not, names said in a hot gasp to then moan again, and what remained constant was Italy's finger inside of her.

Nice and steady he rubbed at her pussy, and the sound of them kissing haphazardly was erotic within itself. Tongue meeting the other, Italy kissing her from above in haggard restraint to not do something more with her when his dick pulsed so close to her, and she knew it was rushed, it was carnal because ever so often Italy would say things like, "You're close aren't you?" and "Go ahead, Germany, cum for me," as if he had always known what to do with her. 

But oh how she adored it so, her mind spinning — _more, more, yes, it feels good_ —

_He's not mine. He's not mine. He's not mine._

A strange ache resided within her.

_Why does that make me feel sad?_

They backed away to breathe, and she couldn't process why she felt the nagging emotion of hurt when realizing the truth. It wasn't novel nor was it even hidden. What they were doing had a purpose, an extremely pleasurable one, but an end objective. Once done, there was no more use for this.

 _All for the order._

At that moment, it came tumbling and intertwined with a moan, Germany tightening around Italy's finger as she shifted on the bed as if to almost thrash and finally climaxed in a stream of moans. 

"A-Ah! I'm —!" She didn't bother to finish, too caught up with the feeling of white bliss and pleasure rolling through her. Endorphins flooded through her head as the damn knot in her stomach was finally released into waves of euphoria. It was amazing, wonderful, exactly what she needed to get off, and her heart bled all throughout her faded senses. 

She remained still after the orgasm, her face flushed and exerted from heat, and she swallowed processing the fact that she had orgasmed so strongly. She breathed in and out, her eyes shut not from pleasure but embarrassment and confusion.

 _I can't believe I came so hard from a little fingering. Why did he do that? He's erect and even more sexually frustrated than me. What is he waiting for? I should have orgasmed with his sperm inside, not his finger_ , she thought, finding that to have been inefficient and impractical. 

She opened her eyes ruminating over how to fix this problem that needed a solution. She was pensive, quiet, looking up at the faded colors of tungsten splayed across the ceiling. 

_Whatever his reasoning may be, the fact remains that the mission was not completed._

She was going to have to fix that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yanno, I didn't expect this to come out as purple prose as it did, but here we are. That was almost a solid 11k word chapter of almost pure foreplay. I'M SORRY. I REALLY AM.
> 
> And also how did Italy go from an incompetent human who can't even walk down the stairs without falling to an actual pussy destroyer?? I'm calling out my own bullshit because honestly, I don't have an answer for you other than blatant self-indulgence.
> 
> I've never shared my smut before so this is definitely a little nerve-wracking. I've been practicing writing explicit content for a year or so now privately in my google docs but to share it out into the world is a completely different feeling, ya know? I can't help but think it's cringy and too long aHH. I hope you guys liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it at least, and so lemme know what you guys thought about it. All reviews and kudos and all that good stuff are welcomed! 
> 
> This has been part three of the date and we're still not done ;) I was originally going to cut off the chapter sooner but decided to just give ya'll the full part one scene for the sake of completion. So stay tuned, and I will see you guys very soon!


	6. And So a Truth is Revealed

She moved her torso up so that she was no longer on her back.

"Germany?"

She settled her palm on his erection. It bulged in between his legs slightly, something very noticeably round below her touch, and she made small circles on his cock to rub through his thin trousers. The good thing about men's pants was how delicate the fabric was, and so she could practically feel everything that lied below. He was warm, the rush of something so stiff yet flexible amazing to tease as she felt his member through annoying layers.

"You've never been too good at following directions, have you?" she patronized. "You just do whatever you please." She pulled down his zipper to free one layer of his restrictions. "And now look at you. You're all pent up because you can't do what you're told."

His cock came springing up through the hole she created. Her unintentional dirty talk was turning him on so badly, her no-nonsense attitude just as enticing from when she gasped his name out.

"Since you insist on being difficult, I'm going to take over."

She undid his belt, the clinking of metal echoing as she undid the loop. Italy was too eager for her hands to remain where they were to complain, his member _throbbing_ , and so when she pulled down his pants, he went ahead and ripped them off. He did it faster than she had ever seen before, Germany wanting to scold him, but ultimately not since she was busier reaching for his underwear hemline.

She tugged at his boxers and noticed slight pubic hair first. It was dark and curly but not overly bushy. She took this in as his erection went down with the momentary force of his underwear as she pulled, but once past his thighs, his cock sprung right back up achingly hard.

She stared at his penis. It was...quite different than what she imagined it to look like. In fact, her whole face glowed at the sight of him so hard. In tight tan skin, his cock stood and swelled out. His dick was practically drumming with blood, his member erect and ready.

The head of his member was a similar color as his lips — red, Charmaine, whatever color out of an art pallet she wanted to describe the pulsing slit — and Italy was bigger than she expected.

Granted, she had no reference point as to what was big or not, but when considering that was going to be inside of her in a couple of moments, it made her wonder. When flaccid, his penis wasn't that impressive. But when aroused and awakened, it expanded and twitched to life. It was a fascinating process to witness, and she mentally tried to measure. He had to be around...five and a half inches she would say? Maybe six if she wanted to be generous.

She reached forward to feel what was right in front of her, and her warm, slim fingers softly wrapped around his member to grip. Touch made it a reality, her hold around him invigorating when realizing how smooth his foreskin was in comparison to the sheer heat of his dick. It was as if all his body heat radiated onto one point of his body, Italy's temperature always naturally above hers, but now more so when so aroused. She took this opportunity to measure girth by rotating her hold around his shaft, and she found him very acceptable when feeling him all the way around. He wasn't too thick nor too skinny.

She went down to the base of his shaft to familiarize herself with such a strange, new piece of anatomy, Germany's face curious yet enticed, and she found a bit of a curve when going to the base where his cock widened out and became slightly thicker. The texture of his skin didn't change, the same smoothness all around, and it wasn't as easy to slide as she would have imagined, her little trip down causing friction and some resistance with her hand on him.

He hissed at the feeling of her hand, and she panicked that she had done something wrong when she tried going back up. "Does that hurt? I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry." She was about to move her hand away not aware of such sensitivity until he gave a ragged command out. 

"No. Keep your hand there."

She did as she was told wary. He seemed to be in pain. "Are you sure? You don't look so good."

He hissed at the feeling of her hand, and she panicked that she had done something wrong when she tried going back up. "Does that hurt? I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry." She moved her hand away not aware of such sensitivity until he gave a ragged command out.

"No. Keep your hand there."

She did as she was told wary. He seemed to be in pain when she wrapped her fingers gingerly around his member again. "Are you sure? You don't look so good." She studied him for a moment trying to connect the dots as to how such a light touch could cause him to become so stilted if not bothered by something. "Do you have a condition of some sort?"

He opened his eyes giving her a labored smile. "You've really turned me on. That's the condition. It's hard to not cum all over you right now."

_Oh._

She flushed bright red. It seemed as if she wasn't as satisfied as she thought, the surge for more slowly building up again. Her clit throbbed at the dirty talk, her womanhood getting a pang of arousal, and she shuffled her knees back. He was confused as to what she was doing at first, her feet moving pillows until she set out a space free from pillows. She looked at him for a moment and then moved her hand down his member.

"So this doesn't hurt, right?" she asked playing with the pressure of her grip around him. When she squeezed slightly, she found that his cock was sturdier than she thought for all its smoothness and flexibility.

Italy's brows creased as he tilted his head down and tried to keep still so that he wouldn't do something he regretted later.

"No, not much, but your grip is a little too tight," he mentioned since it was starting to hurt slightly from where she slowly went down to the base of his member with nothing to lubricate her touch other than skin-on-skin resistance.

"Sorry," she said quickly as she loosened her hold and silently apologized by rubbing her thumb on his cock as if to soothe away the pain. She thought for a moment.

"Will this make it better?" she asked, lowering herself and opening her mouth to lick his leaking head. The warmth of her tongue met his bare skin in a hot flush, her saliva and moisture running up and over his slit to collect the white pre-cum begging to spill out. From above, he saw her pink lips part, her cheeks still red with her blue eyes low and almost uncertain if this was acceptable to do when she had insisted to get to business already. He couldn't form any comprehendible thoughts when her long tongue glided against his cock like a lollipop, her breath hot when she breathed down onto his skin. Nice and pink, her lips were plump and kissed, her tongue wet and soft to lick his cock and peer up shyly. She went down to the base of his member and licked upward, her mouth open and her thighs spread. His member twitched violently at the sensation of something so wonderful, her bobbing chin erotic when she moved up and down to pleasure him.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to cum," he warned, not knowing how much longer he could last.

The tip of her tongue played with his head, and he almost bucked into her throat. It took all his willpower to not shove his cock down her mouth. Her smaller hands ran up his thighs to caress him near his balls, his senses hyperaware and suddenly tingling all over his body when her thumbs pressed into his inner thigh. She rolled her thumb slowly as he had done with her, and she was driving him absolutely _crazy_ when she gently touched him while moaning for his member.

"You can't do that," she prompted feeling a lovely sense of control when seeing his member spasm from her presence. "Or is this all you've got?"

Her touch was torture, her hands running across his tan thighs with her lips so, _so_ close to his cock but not giving in. Her tongue lapped around his head to make him feel as though he was about to combust. She used the underside of her tongue suddenly when licking his head, and _oh god was it soft and wet,_ softer than anything before, her open mouth and growing interest to flip the roles and now tease him to affliction agonizing yet such a sweet poison.

"That would be unfortunate," she remarked as if to answer her own question, the moisture in her mouth making the sound sticky. "Take this as another part of your test. If you pass, you might just be able to do it inside of me." She wrapped her lips around his head, took hold of the base of his cock with her right hand, and sucked.

And then Italy's head rolled back, his Adam's apple showing through the shadows as he groaned at the ecstasy going through. With the flesh of her mouth inside, everything was tight and soft and hot and wet and _so, so good._ Her mouth wrapped his dick as though it was her pussy, the added bonus of her tongue touching him and adding pressure that wouldn't be there otherwise, and he was drowning in pleasure. His cock was aching, twitching, and humming with the insatiable desire to shoot inside the tightness of her mouth.

Her lips were just as soft as he imagined, her grip perfect. She rubbed him slightly as she sucked, the base of his cock where she couldn't reach since she didn't know how to deep throat, and he felt as though he was in sensory overload. Her saliva ran all across his cock, so wet and amazing as she rubbed, moaned, and sucked. It sounded sloppy and completely lewd, their breathing done in ragged breaths, saliva vacuumed by a member tortured by precum, and in this room, it didn't matter.

"Germany, keep going at it like that. Just like that," he said, not knowing if he really could hold it. 

She found herself spreading wider unintentionally, her womanhood once again getting so painfully aroused as she heard him praise her. A throb passed through her core, an exhale through her nose that came when realizing how wet she was getting through her underwear again, and she at this point accepted that there was always going to be a permanent blush on her face because when on her knees and sucking, she wanted to grind against something. Being so uncharacteristically lascivious set open a Pandora's box of hidden desires. She wanted something to rub against her clit again, his fingers preferably, and she almost went down on herself to get the job done. But she held back to focus instead on this.

She lightly touched his balls while sucking him, her hand caressing his sack carefully to see if it did anything for him, and then there was a hand on her head and an inhale. Her hair was clasped into, Germany's eyes looking up to something that made her heartbeat drop right to her clit in an instant.

From below, she could see the shadows of Italy's collarbone and Adam's apple as he tilted his head back and kept her head in place with his stretched out forearm. The sight of his slightly muscled arm outstretched to grasp her head was deliciously hot, his shoulders taut in this angle from his natural low body fat and fast metabolism. She wasn't sure what it was, but something about his lithesome frame and sinewy musculature made her excited, the sharp definition of his jaw making it impossible to not find him attractive. In the light of her room, his tan skin deepened the contours of his body, and she loved how she was the one making his chest breathe in and out as heavily as he was.

Her heart was beating crazily, and before she knew it, she heard him say he was going to cum.

She felt it before she heard it. A burst of something slippery and slightly bitter touched her tongue and the roof of her mouth in an instant. His cum shot out, an eruption she wasn't expecting so soon, and he had much more to give than she expected. Her eyes lowered slightly as she tried to categorize the new taste, to quickly decide to swallow or not, but in the end, she didn't want to create a mess. She swallowed his cum with her lips still around his cock, his white semen thick down her throat as it went down with a gulp, but she had to immediately remove her mouth from his member to properly breathe. She felt as though she was going to choke if she didn't otherwise, and it was much easier once his member was gone.

To Italy, he couldn't believe she had actually swallowed, her visible gulps proof enough as she wiped her mouth from any lingering spit or fluid. She breathed heavily trying to get her rhythm straight after swallowing, and his erection started to soften as he sat dazed. His head felt empty, nothing but pleasure pooled at the base of his neck as he was enveloped in comforting warmth and satisfaction. He could die right then and there and not know the wiser, the blissful white noise and high bringing him to a place that only brought peace and happiness.

His legs became useless and he fell back on his rear on the bed as he came down. He watched Germany to make sure she was okay, and she reached for the glass of water always beside her bed when he came to his senses.

Her throat felt incredibly dry, and she was grateful that she always had water nearby in her room. She drank to wash down some of the lingering stickiness on her tongue, and she set down the glass once things were calmer between the two. She sat on her knees in front of him observing him go into a refractory period.

 _I shouldn't have made him cum,_ she realized feeling dumb. His semen wasn't supposed to be swallowed. And now she had to wait until he was ready again so he could satisfy her. She was still very much aroused if he wasn't already aware.

Italy couldn't help the endorphins that came over, and he started to laugh. He wanted to pull her down into a hug for the amazing experience she had given him, Germany such a kind and considerate person to make sure he enjoyed it as well, and that was what he did when realizing how patient Germany has been with him to make this something more than just an obligatory transaction.

"Germany!"

She felt Italy's body suddenly push her down so that she was lying on her back as he settled himself on top of her. His nose nuzzled into her neck.

"I can't believe you swallowed. That was so unexpected but amazing," he said dreamily.

She looked to the side, gently holding onto his arm that suddenly caged her down. He was heavy, but she didn't mind it.

"A-Ah. I'm glad you enjoyed it," she replied stiffly replaying what she had done when lost to the heat of the moment. With a minute or so of clarity, she reverted back to her awkward, over-analytical self.

_I never realized my will was so weak when it came to matters like this. I'm even worse than him. I got completely distracted._

She couldn't help the happiness that flowed in from her accomplishment despite the self-deprecating, confused thoughts. Even for a complete novice, she could bring pleasure. She wasn't going to let Italy get some kind of big head just because he had some experience in something she didn't.

He hummed. Even through his hum, she could feel his smile, and she felt an overwhelming wave of content and safety. If things were like this forever...

"I did. You made me feel brand new," he confirmed not having felt that good in a long time. "But why did you do that?" he couldn't help but ask confused.

She crossed her arms and looked to the side. She creased her brows as her face rose in heat.

"No particular reason."

 _If I'm going to be completely honest with myself, I just copied what he did because he said it felt alright. Is that not the right way to do it?_ She fretted in place. _Is this how a night like this is supposed to go? What's the correct sequence of events? Did I mess it up? I really don't_ _know what I'm doing. Can he tell? He said to just do what feels right but I don't think this is what he meant. Why is this so complicated!_

But Italy wanted to know. She was almost entering a state of computer-like malfunction again. He poked at her arm gently. "Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me. Please?"

Germany's body language was still quite shy by the way she turned away from him, and he tilted his head slightly to see if her ears were really starting to turn red again.

"Weren't you all about the order this and order that?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Maybe if you had better control this wouldn't have happened," she said as a weak defense.

"But you were sucking even when I said —"

Her limbs floundered to hover over him and physically cover his mouth with both of her palms, her ears now emitting steam as she looked down at his surprised face.

"Shut up!" She looked away flushed even across her nose at how embarrassing it was for him to say that out loud. She moved her hands away and wished she had something to hide with, everything about her so easily exposed. Germany went back to the side and debated if it was socially acceptable to hide underneath the blanket and burrito herself to never see the light of day again.

She heard a little laugh behind her, Germany's back to him, and he placed his chin on her shoulder lightly while wrapping his arms around her.

"It's fine that you did. I don't really mind." He gave a happy hum, almost as if to laugh again, but then she realized that no, his intentions weren't pure when his hand grazed across her stomach and lowered themselves down to her navel again.

There was something enticing about not being able to see him in the dimness of her room, her back to his chest as his arms came around her and touched her in whatever way he pleased.

"I liked it."

She shifted her legs when hearing his voice so close to her ear, the semi-drowsy allure that came with post-pleasure only igniting the curl in her stomach again. His right hand traced down her slightly sucked in stomach to hook his finger over her underwear.

"But you're not satisfied yet, are you?"

He pulled down the hem of her underwear, Germany's heart coming alive again when she agreed, "No, I'm not. You weren't supposed to have shot in my mouth."

She felt how air suddenly rushed to her womanhood that became exposed. Her underwear made it to her knees, too far down for Italy to keep pushing further, and she like Italy flung it off with her feet somewhere on the floor. Down it went with the rest of their garments, no care in the world anymore about such trivial things like cleanliness when she was anything but clean, and then she was fully naked. There was nothing more to hide, the scent of her slick creating a fragrance up.

She was practically dripping with need, so plush, so soft, so _wet_. Nowhere he rubbed was she dry, and up and down he went, her body a marvel in how responsive she became from anything lewd. She opened and closed her legs, her body antsy for more as she squirmed.

"You've had your fun." She reached for his cock and wrapped her hand around the quickly hardening member once more. She rubbed his shaft rapidly, desperate, a little sloppy. It was fast and it was done without much thought about what she was really doing, and she thumbed his head again because all she wanted was something in her already.

"Please."

He got up and hovered over her, his member fully hard and ready for another round. Now that she was beckoning him once more, he couldn't resist. He looked down at her body buzzing with anticipation and knew he couldn't leave her unsatisfied for a moment longer.

He kissed her, Germany already prepared to open her mouth, and his tongue entered. A hot groan came, Germany's mind going into haywire as to how good it all felt, how good it was going to feel, and everything was buzzing, bouncing, the air frenetic with pent up entropy that had yet to be resolved. It truly did feel like chemistry between the two, her eyes shutting closed as she focused on nothing but pleasure and him. She was placing her trust into him, her body the most defenseless it's ever been as she lied on her back and allowed his hands to open up her legs slightly more. She obliged, her walls stretched slightly, and they backed away in a breath.

She opened her eyes hazily to see and decided something important right then and there. In a moment of rarity, she felt it imperative for him to know.

"It's Alouisa," she revealed softly wrapping her arms around his neck.

Italy looked down at her confused. "Alouisa?"

"My human name." Her eyes averted. "Alouisa Beilschmidt."

Italy's chest swelled.

Nations never revealed their human names.

Once they did, it uncloaked everything about them, their alias easily searched through human documents. Because nations could not go through everyday life as the name of their respective country, it has been a long-established custom to have a "human name" associated with each of them. It was easier to interact with humans in the form they understood. And so to expose their "undercover" name, it was opening the chance to stalk them and dig through their whereabouts at all times. They could search through their bank account, letters, and personal files, and it was incredibly dangerous for any of them to say their names. It was a symbol of great trust to be told one's human name.

"Mine's Feliciano," he replied. He smiled so happy to know hers. "Feliciano Vargas."

"Feliciano," she repeated with an accent, her native tongue making it sound slightly strange. He chuckled at her attempt and went down against her neck. "That's right. Feliciano."

"I like it."

Such a simple response made his heart quicken, and he didn't want to wait.

"I want to be inside you," he confessed, just wanting to feel her around him already. "You're driving me crazy."

She didn't know what she was doing but she was glad to know her body was arousing. "Then go inside. Or are Italians all talk?"

He didn't need any further invitation. The only obstacle between him and going inside was simply going through with it. He noticed that she didn't have much hair near her womanhood, the hair that she did have trimmed and short, and this was actually the first time he had ever seen what a vagina looked like from the inside. He knew what it felt like, but other than the outer labia, he had never known how a woman's private anatomy was like outside the black and white medical drawings he used to study.

He stared because he was fascinated for a second, a moment like this one to savor by how pink and wet and soft her vagina actually was. It made knowing where to go inside of her much easier, no fiddling around to see if he needed to go lower, and the sight of her on her back and looking to the side on the pillow in anticipation made him instantly want her now.

He positioned himself to insert himself and looked down at her. "I'm going to go inside now. I'll be gentle, okay?"

She nodded slightly finding that acceptable. For all the excitement that she had, she was still nervous. From all the stories she heard, women always bleed on their first time. That was how you knew someone's virginity had been taken away, and if there was blood, that only meant that there was going to be pain. It made sense in her head. He was going to penetrate a part of her body that had never been split apart before, and so she braced herself for what was to come next.

His member neared her entrance, and he slowly pushed into her. He gauged how she was reacting with every inch that went deeper inside of her while frantically trying to restrain himself from going faster and more forcefully. He ingressed into her monitoring how she was reacting, and all Germany could think was:

_More. More. More. This feels so good._

There wasn't any pain like she had expected, the insertion of his cock only met with pleasure and desperation for more as she was suddenly filled up with a thickness she had never expected to be so amazing inside of her. She hadn't realized how painfully empty she was before, how much she craved for something to go inside, and the first thing she thought was _god, he's warm._

His dick was hot when sliding into her, his heated skin touching hers as their bodies made closer and closer contact to mold and sink into each other. The sensation of him splitting her walls apart relieved the deep burning within her, the thrum of his cock felt with every heartbeat that reverberated through her pulsing clit. There was no possible way to get closer to one another, Feliciano _inside_ of her, and it was intoxicating, his member satisfying her in a way that made her realize she was deprived of such electrifying pleasure before.

She could masturbate all she wanted to with her finger, but nothing beat _this —_ a hard, stiff cock pulsing with pent up lust to thrust and just let go. She knew he was waiting for when the novelty would set aside so that they could both get what they wanted. The knot in her stomach only grew, impatience settling when feeling him slowly insert himself in. It felt strange because it was something foreign inside of her body, but _mmm,_ when he inserted his head and just got to it, she couldn't help but want more, his size perfect to make her feel as though she was high off of their bodies alone.

"You okay?" he asked, not sure what to make of her heavy breathing and lowering eyes.

She gazed at him with a hooded expression, Italy noticing how pretty and dark her lashes were for all the blonde hair she had, and he was struck by how vulnerable the blue that peered back to him was.

"Yes," she breathed. "Keep going. It feels good. Your cock feels good."

 _You can't say things like that,_ Italy thought pushing slightly faster to just feel her more. If Germany was getting a kick out of it, he was losing his mind in how soft her pussy was. It was like the blowjob from before but not, the walls of her vagina better than when she ran her tongue around his shaft.

"I'm going to start moving," he warned.

She didn't have much time to respond because he quickly got to what he wanted, his member that was fully inside of her suddenly shifting and rubbing against her. He didn't go incredibly fast, and she was grateful since as good as the movement was, she was still sensitive to such abrupt changes when she had never done this before.

It surprisingly didn't take much for pleasure to flow through. Even with a pace like this, satisfaction came and made her melt into the mattress. With slight discomfort came pleasure until eventually, it was no longer so strange. She quickly adapted to the new stimulus and told him it was fine to do more.

"Y-You can go faster."

Italy didn't need to be told twice. He picked up speed as she said, and she moaned. The bed began to rock slightly.

"O-Oh! Italy! Faster!" Germany's body rocked, her large, milky breasts bouncing as he thrusted into her to watch where her pink, hard nipples moved with her. She had her eyes shut to drown out everything but the sensation of his dick inside of her, her vision black to only feel a steady pulse of _in, out, in, out, in, out._

He watched her face delve into bliss, her neck curved, her mouth parted, and her arms above her head as she spread her legs and gave herself up to him. She gave a consistent stream of moans, her hips shifting with his, as she pushed together her eyebrows in not stress but in pure pleasure.

"Feliciano, go harder. Please," she begged, almost delirious.

He went slightly harder as she requested, angling slightly in the rush of hearing her say his name, and there was the jackpot.

He didn't think she was a screamer from how quiet she has been before, but a loud, uninhibited moan came out in desperate gasps. She lolled her head completely gelatinous and weak.

"Keep going at it like that," she pleaded, never wanting this to end. "Don't slow down."

"You're so tight," he groaned just wanting to cum inside of her again, the memory of her swallowing making it impossible to focus on nothing but her vagina that choked around him.

"I-Is that bad?" she asked not sure what to make of that.

He ran his fingers briefly through her hair, and she shivered despite how hot she was. His lips neared her mouth, and she held in her breath for a moment as to what he had to answer.

"No, Alouisa, it's a great thing. You've been very good to me. Keep being good for me," he rasped.

Her cheeks tinted into the shade of an apple, the blood rushing to her skin in a wonderful, surprised flush from how much those words aroused her.

 _Do I have a kink?_ she wondered, feeling so small and vulnerable and cared for. She couldn't describe why she loved Feliciano hovering over her and praising her, but what she did know was that her heart stuttered, her brain short-circuited, and she started to squelch.

 _What is that sound?_ she suddenly worried when hearing something slosh. _Is that normal?_

His hands took hold of the underside of her thighs, his palms sinking into the softness and heat of her skin when he gripped onto her and lifted her legs up. She moaned helplessly at whatever he wanted to do with her, her mind desultory in pleasure from the difference the slight shift in position made. It felt as though he was closer to her, he was going in deeper, and it stimulated her more than before. He was getting closer to something that itched, that throbbed and pulsed, and she wanted him to keep going at it just like that, maybe harder, maybe faster, but never slower, never less passionately.

The sound Alouisa was worrying about only made him more in love with her body, physical proof of her arousal heard throughout the room as she moaned breathlessly, flushed red, and squelched, her legs shaking from where her body jostled to his movements on the bed. Her back rubbed against the sheets as she took the momentum of his cock and tilted her head back and searched for something to hold onto as she tried to process everything that was happening.

She was surrounded by him — his member inside, his chest inches away from her jiggling breasts, and his lips close enough to suck on her neck if he so wished.

"Please. Please," she pleaded for something she did not know.

"Are you close?"

She wrapped her legs around his waist. The bed rocked, the bounciness Italy commented before doing them no favors when the squeals of the box springs inside the mattress jolted with them as their bodies met and moved to one another, as their skin melded into the other's shifting hips and persistent need to have close contact. Kissing wasn't enough, hands crawling everywhere that they could in the pleasure that surged through, and Germany was moaning just as a virgin would, everything new, everything exhilarating and intense when a body was over her to hold her down, kiss her lips shut, and thrust inside. His cock fit so perfectly in her, not too big to cause pain but not too small to not make her unsatisfied by his girth. She didn't know how big he was but she didn't care because he was making her feel nothing but euphoria, the slapping of their skin basked in as she was hungrily devoured.

His dick thrusting in her was indescribable, the pulsing heat of his cock melting their bodies together as she felt his heartbeat reverberate with hers. It echoed deeply within her, their pulses shared as their hips rocked to fuse their cores together in blinding, smothering heat. Because _God_ , was his cock warm, warm, warm and stiff and hard and just what she needed to be inside her to split apart her wet walls. They backed away from their kiss to breathe, and she saw his chain swinging from above, the glimmer of gold almost iridescent when her eyes were as glossy as they were, and her stomach knotted deliciously at her tightening orgasm. The closer her second climax approached, the more vocal she became, her senses blinded in the crescendo of her body furling and becoming turbinate in a hazy, numbing pleasure.

"Feliciano, Feliciano, I'm going to cum — I'm close," she whimpered just needing _a little more,_ a little _longer._ "It feels so good," she moaned, spreading wide so that he could go deeper if he wanted. She wouldn't care, her brain irrational and running off of pure primal want.

He was groaning; he was tired, but he didn't want to stop. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, hiding his face into the crook of her neck so that they were closer, his heavy, shallow breathing casting puffs of hot air on her slightly sheened skin with sweat, and she couldn't escape even if she wanted to. His arms caged around her, his body dominating her as she spread and inhaled the scent of sex and cologne, his necklace brushing against her chin briefly as it swung in place from the force of his thrusts.

 _Mark me_ she wanted to cry out, his lips so damn close to her throat to not leave a hickey. She was right on the edge, her pulse about to burst out of her chest, and all she wanted was for him to leave a hickey as he came inside of her. The coiling in her stomach couldn't be any tighter, the butterflies from before having swirled and balled up to a knot deep in her lower stomach that wanted to let go, release, and flow out. With how soaked she was, she couldn't imagine how blissful it would be to orgasm with him. It was the same sensation of holding in her pee for hours longer than she should, the thrill of waiting a little more so that her pussy got more desperate, and there was nothing she wished more than to let the dam go, for whatever it was that held her insides so tightly bound to her throbbing, wet pussy to gush out already.

She clutched onto his hair not able to last long, their moans a broken stream of their names, gasps, curse words muttered in German, Italian, and the plea for _just a little more._

"Y-You're getting bigger," she noted mostly to herself as she felt his cock swell up slightly inside of her. It felt somehow thicker than before, and then his member started twitching, his shaft becoming tumid while spazzing. She felt his heartbeat pulsing with hers, their rhythm in sync, and it made her curious as to what it could mean, why Feliciano couldn't respond. If he lacked words, she surely didn't, the new sensation wonderful.

But in her delirium, she forgot about his curl and ran her fingers on the left side of his head by accident. And just when she was about to orgasm, she heard him give a sharp curse, lift her thighs up, and go still inside of her while he was deep in her. It came through a rushing stream of words, his voice low near her ear because it was a surprise, but heard by her nonetheless when something changed.

"I'm gonna cum," he told her before she blanked out and let the wave of euphoria from her orgasm rush over her. It racked all over her body, her veins and blood flooded with liquid ecstasy as the happiness and surge of dopamine rushed to the back of her head where it was warm, everything warm and hot to make her float for a moment. Time stopped for a couple of seconds, only them, their bodies, their hearts, their breaths that inhaled and marveled in the wonders of their differing bodies. He needed her just as much as she needed him, and it was marvelous, the orgasm that came from being held down and shot inside of amazing and every other synonym she couldn't list off due to how hazy her mind was, her logic buzzed and gone.

Her throat was dry, her lips kissed raw, but her face was flushed, her eyes shut, and body yielding to the courses or pleasure that racked every muscle. When cumming, her legs slightly shook, her thighs vibrating in how relieving it was for the damn balloon in her stomach to finally pop, to give in, and _yes, yes, yes,_ she adored the hot, sudden shot of cum going inside of her. She didn't feel his semen travel all the way through her, but she did feel the initial powerful burst of cum slosh and enter her as Italy reveled in the relief of orgasming in her vagina in as well.

He truly couldn't form any coherent thoughts, the pressing need to cum inside of her so overwhelming when her walls were as wet as they were, as tight and slippery as they were to hug and grip his cock to perfection. It was as if they were made for each other, Germany not having made him feel this way about a woman ever before, and it left him shocked at how good she felt. To shoot inside of her raw was a gift within itself, nothing but skin on skin contact as he felt her soft walls contract and tighten as she approached orgasm herself.

He felt high, his senses faded, and then he was gasping for breath as he came down beside her.

Germany opened her eyes when she felt Italy lying next to her left catching up for air, and she observed how exerted he truly was. His skin glimmered with sweat, his ribcage moving up and down from where he inhaled and then exhaled, and his eyes were shut. It was the same as when he would train with her, but instead of the sun, they were basked in shadows and contours. She tried to not let her heart beat so loudly in her ears, but as the minutes passed of trying to cool down, she heard something strange.

He started laughing again.

"That was amazing!" he said in a breathless sort of joy, his face turning to meet her eyes as he slid his flaccid member out of her. Hearing him laugh made her slowly smile at him as well, her chest rising and falling from the after-glow, and then she couldn't help it either, small laughs coming out of her too as she looked into his eyes and thought about how silly he was.

"Yes," she agreed with a soft smile. "It was." She wanted to talk more than she had ever before, the rush of sex lingering to slowly fade away into something more wholesome and content. Her chest was warm, her face ruddy with delight, and everything that made her feel as though she was floating in this selcouth dream with him.

"That was _Wunderbar,"_ she sighed enamored. "I've never experienced something so great."

Germany turned onto her stomach and hugged the pillow radiating joy. She was smiling into the white pillow sheet, her cheeks stained pink and her shoulders relaxed. She turned her cheek and faced him. She didn't want to scoot closer because she was overheated, but she still sought his face.

"Feliciano. That is your human name?"

"Mmhm," he agreed tiredly but very much content. "That's my name. Though it's more common as a surname in my country."

"What does it mean?" she asked, playing with his golden cross. It felt warm in her fingers, the little gilded piece rounded against her thumb and his slowly rising chest. It was silent outside, their hushed bringing life into the room.

"It means happiness. My real, real name is Felicianus since that's what Grandpa Rome named me but over the years it's become Feliciano."

She smiled and looked up. "It's fitting."

He smiled back and brought her closer. "And what about you?"

She reddened slightly. "Alouisa in the literal terms means renowned warrior. My brother didn't have a name ready for me when I was born since he hadn't been expecting a girl, and so a maid gave me the name Louisa. It was popular with the French nobility, and so she wanted to name me something that reflected that high class and beauty. Prussia added the letter A to make it German."

"It's fitting," he mimicked grinning.

She raised a brow. "You see me as a prim and proper upper-class woman?"

"Well you are beautiful," he didn't deny. "But you are also very strong. I think it's a very pretty name. Alouisa," he repeated, the way he said sounding smoother than when she did because of the name's romantic roots. Either way, when he said her name made her chest flutter. She would have never imagined that she would ever place so much faith into someone to reveal this name. She tightened her hold over his necklace.

"It was fortunate it worked out, isn't it," she mused, pinkening at his compliment. "With a naming system like that, I could have easily been named after a log that sounded nice."

"Well, _Nonno_ wasn't very creative either. Romano's name is Lovino which translates to the wine," he laughed less exuberantly than before from the sleep that wanted to overtake him. "It's more Estrucan than anything else which is probably why it's strange. It's also possible that it means to destroy since Lovino originated from the word rovine. Rovine means ruined, destroyed, especially in the context of ancient buildings."

She furrowed her brows. "Is it okay to reveal your brother's human name?"

"Are you going to use it against him?"

He had a point. "No."

He smiled. "Then it's okay!"

She sighed. This idiot was very trusting, wasn't he?

"Romano gets mad when you call him his human name because he thinks it's stupid. Like mine, it's more of a surname than an actual name. But want to know something? I don't think _Nonno_ was drunk on wine like Romano thinks he was to name him that."

She curled her fingers on his chest, liking him talk.

"It sounds likely knowing your grandfather."

Feliciano didn't think so. "According to him, he found Romano crying in a destroyed building. It was an old Etruscan temple. I think _Nonno_ was trying to name him as his successor, someone that was founded through the ruins of another."

"I like that theory better," she agreed quietly. "Although we'll never know if that happened."

"It's all a theory anyway. He might have been actually drunk. I don't know!"

"It would be ironic if you grew up to be angry," she said, getting sleepy.

"And you a coward," he said thinking it would be funny if they switched places. Germany with his personality and him with hers...! He would be terrified of a world like that! Although now that he thought about it, he was rowdier as a child. It wasn't as though he was always this way...

"That...wouldn't be good. I have a war to win," she mumbled with her eyes laden with drowsiness. It was well past midnight. She was trying to stay awake for him since he was still talking, but with her body worn out and satisfied, she couldn't fight the pull to unconsciousness when he was so warm, so comfortable, and holding her. She was slipping in and out of consciousness, trying to listen to what he was saying, but she eventually lost the battle and fell asleep on his chest when he didn't continue the conversation in the next minutes of quiet. She was too relaxed to do anything else, her slow breathing making Italy smile as he observed her slip into bliss and good dreams.

"Goodnight, Alouisa," she heard faintly through the dark. She slept better that night than any other night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, hi, I still want to kinda go underneath a hole and hide. Maybe I'll join Germany in becoming a blanket burrito because smut writing is embarrassing, especially since I put in so many details that I'm sure no one asked for. I don't know why I get more stuffy when I post long, emotional porn than hardcore NSFW content. Maybe it's because it's more vulnerable and not as "exciting". Either way, I still had a lot of fun writing it and hope ya'll had a good time reading it. Things are going to be picking up soon (in terms of the bigger plot and smutty moments) as we finally progress past the misunderstandings.
> 
> So~ As always, thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed or have some feedback, leave a comment below. I read all of them and really appreciate them! Kudos and bookmarks and shares and all that are always loved as well. I will see you guys very soon :D
> 
> *Oh, and when I was doing research for this chapter, I found out that on average, Italian men have bigger penises than Germans! In a 2012 study, the average Italian penis size was 6.2 inches as opposed to the average 5.7 inches in Germany. I guess that's why there's the saying of "Italian Stallions" ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	7. And So Came the Clouds

Germany woke up warm the next morning. There was something wet below her, and she furrowed her brows at what it could be. She shifted thinking it was the blanket causing her to overheat again and that she was going crazy until she felt a body lying next to her.

She opened her eyes and was met with Italy's shirtless back. In the early sunlight, she could see the shadows of his shoulder blades and the faint line of his spine that moved slightly with every slow movement of his breathing.

 _Did last night really happen? I'm no longer a virgin,_ she processed.

She rubbed her thighs again and confirmed there was something slippery. She reached down to her womanhood to feel what it was, and her eyes widened when her fingers came back into the light.

_That's Italy's cum. It spilled out of me overnight?!_

She sprung up like a board. She kept feeling below her to see if there was more and the confirmation only made it worse.

_How did it leak out of me! Does this ruin my chances of getting pregnant?_

She worried in place as she shut her legs together tightly and wondered what was wrong with her body.

_Is this normal? Do other humans usually experience this? Or is this my body, in particular, trying to dispel his semen?_

She furrowed her brows in anxiety and confirmed that yes, below her was also a stain from the night before.

_This might be a warning. I don't think this is supposed to happen. This isn't good. This body might not actually be useful after all._

Germany couldn't accept that.

_Don't make hasty conclusions yet. Both of our bodies have sexual responses despite there being no biological reason for reproduction. Italy has sperm so the question is whether my body will fertilize it or not. I'll have to see my calendar for when my next period is to solve this._

Germany didn't feel any immediate difference to confirm or deny her theory. There was no miraculous change in her body in other that she needed to go pee and take a shower. She thought back to recall some clues that could give her insight as to what was occurring, but it only led her to begin blushing slightly. When in the brunt of the details and pleasure from last night, her mind started to wonder.

 _Prussia doesn't know what happened between Italy and I. We kissed in the garden and then we kissed some more and then..._ she was blushing madly now, the events that happened after _much_ better. To think that she had really done that with Italy was still shocking, but as she directed her gaze back to him, she wasn't necessarily surprised.

In the quiet of the morning after, she became pensive. There was something else she had failed to consider.

 _Italy and I have gotten a lot closer since we became allies. Even if we knew each other during the First World War, we weren't on friendly terms. I mainly had pity for him since he seemed so weak as my prisoner. And then when he came begging for a job twenty years ago, I gave him whatever I could scrap up so that he would stop bothering me. He's a hard worker when push comes to shove,_ she realized.

_It's almost as if I forget he's a country. He's been a nation for hundreds of years longer than me. He, at the end of it, will also make decisions that will benefit him._

That sobered her mood _. Last night was a command he had to follow._ She watched the sun slowly rise behind the curtains. _A command that I may actually be jeopardizing._

She removed the blanket and slipped off the mattress to head to the bathroom.

 _But even so, I don't believe my emotions would have been the same if I had been told to do this with Japan,_ she thought it over. _Japan — if he were here — would have been hypothetically a better candidate. He's stronger than Italy, more strategical, and, of course, a man._

She shut the door to the bathroom and walked toward the tub. _But the problem lies in that he's not European. In my boss's head, he would rather take Italy over Japan._ She frowned hating to think about it.

 _If I had been ordered to have sex with Japan, would I still have done it?_ She turned on the faucet unsure.

_I don't know. Probably…_

Something in her gut screamed at her to stop lying. She stepped inside without waiting for the water to heat up.

_I would! A command is a command. There's nothing wrong with Japan. He's handsome. He's fit, and he's respectful. I just...I just don't feel attracted to him._

Her head snapped up underneath the cold stream of water on top of her head.

_Do I like Italy?_

She shook her head. _What am I thinking? Of course not. He doesn't like me back either...Valentine's Day already proved that he doesn't see me romantically._

She cringed. Thinking back to that awful date and proposal made her want to sink into the earth and never come out, and she actively repressed the memory in the horror it brought her. It was a failure she would never get over, and whenever she thought there was something more than there was, she always referred back to the incident to remind herself that she's been through this before. She had a clear history of placing too much emphasis on something for only Italy to be lackadaisical and not care about it, not even know. A lot of things in Italy's head were mindless. She wouldn't make the same mistake again.

_I'm thinking too deeply into this. I need to get out of this shower and start cleaning._

That was exactly what she did, and when she stepped out of the bathroom dressed, she wasn't surprised Italy wasn't awake yet. She looked down at his innocent figure. _Look at him so peaceful. He's sleeping so soundly._

She ripped the blanket off. "WAKE UP!" she yelled more than used to his laziness. He jolted at the cold air that attacked him, and his eyes flew open.

She dropped the blanket back in place with her hands on her hips. She looked down at him. "Get up! It's almost seven, and you're still in bed. You have work to do!"

He rubbed his eyes sleepily although still slightly frightened. "I do? It's so early. Can't I just have five more minutes?"

"No," she strictly denied. "Five minutes turns into two hours. Get up, go shower, and get dressed. You can't just sleep all day," she recited moving around her room to find his clothes she had thrown around the night before. She collected his clothing and folded it on the table so that he had no excuses to not get moving.

Italy watched her with a dopey expression.

"Ve, I'm tired," he complained. He flipped over onto his stomach and hugged the pillow to get comfortable again. He settled into the spot he had left warm and shut his eyes. "I wanna go back to bed."

"No," she denied again. "You're going to get up so I can make the bed. The sheets need to be washed and aired out," she finished getting a little embarrassed since she didn't want to say out loud why they needed to be washed. He turned his head back to her amused, his back highlighted in the early morning light.

She whacked him over the head blushing so that he went back down. "Stop with that look and go shower already! I'm going to make breakfast so hurry up. Your food is going to get cold, and I'm not going to wait for you if you stay in bed all day."

That was a lie, and she knew it, but food was always a motivating factor for Italy.

"You're making breakfast? Ve! I'll go right now, then! I hope there's still hot water."

With the promise of food on the horizon, he already had the bathroom door closed to take a shower. She luckily always had spare towels and soap and so he would be fine using her bathroom. Although she had expected him to use the guest bathroom because it was technically his anyway by how much he came over. Whenever she cleaned the house, she kept on finding more and more of his things in the downstairs bathroom making her wonder if he ever had the intention of taking them back.

Although by the singing she was already picking up through the door, she didn't think he was in a hurry to get out.

Not thinking much about it, she quickly got to work on cleaning her room. She opened the window to let fresh air in and gathered the large bedsheets in both of her arms to then walk downstairs with the large bundle obscuring her view of the next step below her. She continued on her way to the laundry room to have the sheets soak, but as she walked by the bay window streaming in rays of warm sun, she noticed something that made her stop.

_That's strange. Did the flowers get bigger overnight?_

She needed a coffee more than she thought she did.

Preparing breakfast was easy, and she was no stranger to what Italy liked. In the earlier years of the war when she had been completely baffled by Italy's strange existence, she had recorded everything he did in her Italy tracker journal. There were weeks' worth of information about him as if he were some kind of zoo animal, and although she didn't document his every move now, she still referenced the journal from time to time. From what she remembered, Italy ate light in the morning to make room for the feasts he called dinner. Italy when left to his own devices preferred bread and coffee in the morning and nothing else.

Germany looked down at the empty white cup trying to recall something important. _How is that he does his coffee? The last time I was at his house, he had a certain machine to make...an espresso?_ She looked around her counter. _I don't have that. I wonder if I can replicate it without that machine of his,_ she thought, getting a pot to boil the water.

She went ahead and made her eggs, multi-tasking easy when everything was on the stove, and ten minutes later, she was making both of their coffees. She tried her best to make it taste the same as before, the way Italy liked it, and it was the best she could do with her limited resources. She needed to go shopping again.

She luckily still had bread from her trip earlier that week, and Italy's timing was impeccable because she was just getting done with setting up the table.

Freshly showered and with different clothes on from the night before, Italy was ready for the day.

"You're just in time. I know you don't like eggs too much in the morning but you need to eat more if you want to stay strong," she said, not guilty at the amount she had placed.

The scent of warm bread and coffee made Italy float into a happy place, the ray of sun hitting Germany from her window above the stove filling the kitchen with golden light. He commented on how good everything looked until he noticed their cups were different. He tilted his head slightly. This was new.

"I believe this is how you like it," she said pushing his cup of coffee forward a bit hesitantly. "Sorry if it's bad."

He took a sip to taste it. He blinked shocked. "Hey, hey, this tastes good! It's like the coffee I do at home! How did you remember how I liked it?"

She was relieved she had prepared it correctly. "I've seen you make it before but wasn't sure if it would taste alright. I don't have that machine you use, so this was the closest I could come up with what I have."

He looked at her fondly. "Thank you, Germany. That was nice of you."

She became awkward. "It's nothing really. Don't get so worked up over a cup of coffee."

He looked down at the brown liquid. "But even if it's just coffee, it shows that you care. I don't think even Romano remembers."

She coughed into her fist. "Well sit. The food will get cold."

He did and so they chatted over the table, everything about this so normal, so natural between the two. There wasn't any lingering feeling of regret, of doubt, or even unease. It was comfortable, it was light, and...Germany would even dare admit lovely. It was nice to feel something warm in her chest when she heard him laugh at something she said. Right here, right now was what she wished every morning could be like.

Italy was leaning his cheek into his palm listening to her talk and something caught his attention.

"Hehe, I smell like Germany," he said smiling at her in that dumb, affectionate manner of his. Her chest tightened again, and she looked away.

"I don't know why you say that as if it's a good thing. You don't smell like normal."

Italy took a sip out of his coffee. "Does it really matter? I'm clean."

As utilitarian as she was, she wouldn't imagine the scent of vanilla to be his first choice. "No, but the shower in the guest bedroom wouldn't have made you smell like me."

He set down the cup carefully, the birds chirping in the back. "I really don't mind. It was fun seeing what was inside your bathroom." His eyes closed, a smile overtaking his face. "I didn't know Germany also had a razor and shaving cream. It was like I was in my bathroom for a second!"

She got up and strangled him with her elbow. "Shut up! It cost you zero money to say that!"

Italy laughed at her hold around his throat that didn't suffocate him like it used to. "It's okay, Germany! I already know girls have hair!"

She let go and returned to her seat miffed.

"You have no tact," she said, raising her coffee cup to take a drink. In the morning light with her chin tilted up, Italy was reminded that for a time Germany was under Austria's influence. He was still her brother, and he very clearly saw it when she straightened her back, turned her cheek away from him as if disgusted by the lack of his decorum. It fascinated him to see the coalescence of Prussia and Austria in her.

"Regardless of that," she averted. "You seem to be done with your meal which means it's time to continue on your training."

"What, training? But I'm tired," he complained, dropping his head to show how fatigued he was.

She stood up and pushed her chair out picking up her plate and utensils. "During times like this, you need it more than ever. You have to keep yourself sharp in the chances of an enemy attack at all times." She cleared the table off clean to begin washing the dishes. "You never know what your enemy is capable of."

He placed his head in between his arms as he lied on the table and watched her. "But I just took a shower. I don't wanna get sweaty again. I'm tiiired."

She placed their dishes on the drying rack not paying him much mind. "Stop complaining. You always try to weasel yourself out of this and it never works. Go change into something lighter while I clean up."

He lolled his head back and forth not wanting to exercise right now. He wanted to pet a cat, strum a guitar, talk to Germany like they had last night. "But I already trained a couple of days ago. Isn't that good enough? I'm sore. It's not good to overwork yourself you know. I could break a bone, strain a muscle, get brain damage if I work myself too hard, and then I would be even _more_ useless because then I would be in crutches, in a hospital. You don't want me in crutches, right? Of course not, so the logical response is to relax and do nothing today! Especially since we just ate. Can't get cramps. You wouldn't swim right after eating right? So we can't train right after breakfast. The solution is to do nothing so the food can digest!"

"Italy," she warned by the sink immune to his long chain of excuses.

He got up in a pouty mood. He didn't want to do push ups and laps and everything else that wasn't fun. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

She was pleased. "Good."

Italy went and changed into something more breathable for sweating while she finished. He walked out ready while she was feeding Blackie. She got up from his bowl and walked over.

"Ready?"

He saluted. "Ve, I'm ready commander!"

She grabbed her keys. "Alright then, let's go."

* * *

Italy was on the ground boneless, and Germany facepalmed.

"How is it possible for someone to make _zero_ progress after years of working out?" She looked down at him unamused once removing her hand. She didn't understand how there could be such dissonance from last night and right now. She _knew_ there was strength somewhere beneath that body. The problem was that he never seemed to actually use it.

"Your training is Hell!" he gasped. She leaned over and held out her hand, the mid-August sun bright as her face was rimmed in backlight. 

"Come on get up." She pulled him up so that he could get up on his feet. He swayed up not wanting to stand and when she saw that he was going to go on his butt again, she yelled at him.

"Italy, walk it off! You'll feel better when you walk it off instead of sitting down," she said pushing him slightly so that he moved his feet. He did as she was told, and she walked alongside him to practice what she preached. Minutes of strolling along the countryside road did as Germany predicted, and he felt better quickly. Once he wasn't breathing as heavily, she raised a brow.

"See?"

"Ve," he responded just enjoying the summer weather. She looked ahead and took in the quiet life of the bucolic neighborhood an hour away from where she lived. There was a military base that she wasn't allowed near so she could only go so far with Italy before she was in danger of getting shot, and so she allowed herself this freedom of mobility while it lasted. If she was with Italy, it was more acceptable for her to be out in public.

"It's such a beautiful day," he said, glad to finally enjoy the warm afternoon with Germany now that her need to train was out of the way. "This is way better than doing a bunch of laps. Maybe we'll even find a stray puppy to play with!"

Germany wouldn't mind getting distracted by a stray pet either. "I should have taken Blackie out with us. He would have loved it here." A small breeze passed by. "And now that summer is winding down, it doesn't feel so overbearing to be outside anymore."

The birds chirped above them, and their footsteps against the gravel were the only thing to be heard as the birds passed by.

"We shouldn't walk too far," she warned. "You still need to get back and shower, and I need to finish washing."

Italy wasn't worried about that like he had been before leaving the house. "Let's just keep walking for a little bit more. I don't think we've ever actually been out this far before."

It was mainly because there was no reason for them to do so, but she followed along with his gait since he was now talking about something that came to his head. Italy led the conversation as always, and his rambling didn't annoy her today as much as it did other times. She found it almost endearing, his ability to be so cheerful even after doing something he hated commendable. It was easy to be sad. She found a real strength in positivity.

Germany slowed down at the sight of something she hadn't seen before. It was something Italy would enjoy, and she did so as well, her feet stopping as she turned her head.

It was a field of cornflowers. Just like the heliotropes, there was a sea of purple among the green stems. When unfettered by the likes of people, nature provided one of its best pieces of art for those that were patient enough to leave it alone and observe what could be. When put all together in the hundreds, it was almost as if there was a purple blanket here on Earth that swayed with the wind. If she wanted to, she could brush her hand against the stems that reached her mid-thigh. She wasn't terribly surprised they were here. They were near a wheat farm, after all.

Italy found a tree and yawned when Germany stopped. "Siesta time, siesta time," he repeated sleepily ready to take a nap.

Germany looked out into the distance, her hands behind her back. A breeze passed to ruffle her short hair. In her day time clothing, Germany appeared unassuming and at peace as she studied the field of flowers sway.

"I wish it was always like this."

Something about her at that moment made him sad. There a longing hidden in the gentle words, her eyes trained to something he couldn't see. It felt timeless for a moment when she was blocking the sun as she was, her words an aubade to the happiness she couldn't keep within her hands.

Italy tugged her down hating it. "You should join me in a siesta then!"

She tumbled down with him, their backs against the tree. He easily settled himself into a comfortable position. Germany adjusted herself to sit as Italy lied down on the grass. She looked up at the sky and watched the white clouds float by. They were languid against the blue of the horizon, time stretched to last whatever they wanted when there was peace.

She hugged her knees to look up above. Italy watched her finding it curious that she wasn't huffing and puffing to tell him not to sleep in the middle of the day and return home already.

"Take a siesta with me," he invited tugging at her long sleeve. She continued to look up as if thinking about something deeply.

"I'm not tired. If you want to nap, go ahead. I'll keep watch."

She didn't glance back at him, her eyes trained on the sky, and he searched for what she saw.

"I see pasta," he pointed to a cloud that looked like a blob. She furrowed her brows. "What? How?"

He smiled. "Look! There are the noodles and plate," he pointed again, "and there's the fork!"

She was genuinely trying to find the shape when he knew there wasn't any. "I don't see it. Is it upside down or something?"

"You have to tilt your head to the right," he clued her in. She did so but it wasn't enough. "No, more. Keep tilting. You'll see it for sure. But do it quickly! It'll go away!"

She did so without question, and he kept telling her to keep tilting right.

"I'm not seeing it. Are you sure there's a plate of pasta anymore?" she asked skeptically when she kept tilting to the right until eventually she lost her balance and fell to her side. She landed against Italy's chest, something sturdy meeting her ear and cheek because suddenly she was warm.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that," she apologized, quickly getting up from him until she felt his hand settle on her head. The weight of his palm calmed down her panic for a moment in the surprise that it brought her.

"It's okay. Stay."

Blushing, she slowly lowered her cheek back onto his chest. With her ear against his chest, she could hear his heartbeat, the steady and rhythmic thing that it was underneath the warmth of his skin. It was calming in how relaxed it was, healthy and never to miss a beat. It was nothing like hers. She listened wondering if he could somehow hear her heart that pounded right against her ears, the sound of it surely loud enough to pick up by how fast it pulsed within her ribs.

She looked up at the sky to distract herself by how close they were.

"I still don't see the bowl of pasta."

Italy always found Germany so easy to mess with. There had never been anything in the cloud.

"It's gone now. I see a white flag right there!"

"What? Where?" she asked so confusedly as to where he saw these things.

He grinned. "You have to look closely. It's right there!"

"Perhaps you need a mental evaluation after all," she decided.

"Noo, it's there. I see a cake there and a boot there and a sushi roll," he pointed out.

"An asylum is more fitting."

"What do you see?" he asked, not taking much offense to her bland statements.

She was quiet, Germany always one to take things seriously, and then she outstretched her arm too.

"I see...a heart."

She was embarrassed by how simple it was for how long it took her to say it. But it was true. No matter how she looked at it, the cloud was shaped like a heart to her.

"A heart?"

"A heart."

"Hmm, it looks like a bowl of gelato to me."

She sighed. "You're just hungry, aren't you?"

He played with her hair, his finger running through her locks slowly as if he wasn't aware he was touching her so casually. "Maybe. I'm getting sleepy."

Germany felt a shiver when he kept loosely tucking her hair gently behind her ear, his fingers soothing her by the repeated motion that sent butterflies to her stomach. Her cheeks tinted pink at the domesticity of this. She didn't know what was going on between them, but all she knew was that she didn't want it to end. She wanted this to be only for her. While on his chest with his fingers playing with her hair, she couldn't find it in her to move.

"Then sleep."

He shut his eyes, his movements slowing down but not forgetting about her head on his chest. He hummed lazily, the vibration of his voice deep within his chest to be heard directly by her position. It was a fascinating thing to hear the echo, and she couldn't understand how he was so at peace when her mind was racing. Did he not see what he was doing to her?

"Will you be here when I wake up?" he asked with the same voice that reminded her of last night.

"Yes," she answered not knowing where she would go. "I'll be here when you wake up."

He smiled in response, and he placed a hand on his stomach. His breathing began to slow down, the petting of her hair eventually stopping as his body shut down for his mid-afternoon nap.

He stopped talking, and after fifteen minutes of silence, she deemed him asleep. Italy was a quiet sleeper, barely making any noise, and so it was hard for Germany to determine if he was out or not because she didn't want to disturb him by shifting to see. Minutes passed and she continued to look into the clouds because she couldn't possibly get rest when her thoughts were all over the place.

 _How did he see pasta?_ she kept trying to figure out. _His mind works in such a strange way. Why couldn't he see the heart? It was clear to find._

The lull of the summer heat eventually crept up to her. When underneath the tree on such a calm, tepid day, she felt her eyes also slowly become heavier too. The clouds rolled by, a breeze rustled the grass, and the countryside was quiet. She would only close her eyes for a couple of minutes. She has to keep watch. Just a couple of minutes...

* * *

They woke up to the sound of thunder.

Germany was the first to get up, her eyes flying open at the crackling sound in the distance. She jolted up to the sight of the sky dark and gray. Heavy, black clouds roamed across quickly, a pelting autumn storm in the horizon as the breeze from before turned to stronger winds that made her shiver. The sound of faraway thunder alerted her to wake up Italy as soon as possible in the fear of the quick strike of sharp lightning across the sky.

She rapidly shook him awake. "Italy, get up! We need to go — it's about to storm and we need to leave right now."

He woke up quickly when she sounded so alert, and he sat up to see what was the cause of alarm. When he saw how ominous the weather had turned, he knew they needed to find shelter immediately to not get soaked.

Germany was already standing on her feet, and Italy bounced up too quickly.

"It looks like it's going to be a really bad storm," he noted worried watching the way the trees swayed and clouds swirled to black. "The weather changed so quickly. How long have we been out here?"

"We don't have time to just gape with our mouths open. We need to go. If we run back to the house, we might make it before it downpours," she assessed wishing she had brought more exercise-friendly clothes.

"You think so? Your house is almost an hour away. I don't think we're going to make it and stay dry at the same time," Italy replied hearing deep rumbles from beyond the field.

"We aren't going to know unless we move it!" She gave him that harsh look she always did when out on the battlefield.

A loud roar of thunder rolled by, and Italy jolted. Germany frowned. "It's getting closer. We have to go."

Italy didn't really need to be told twice. In silent agreement, they both began to start running back on the dirt path to her home. The air became thicker and the wind picked up as they ran past the expansive field. Another roll of thunder passed by with a quick flash of lightning following it. Almost immediately after, they saw droplets hit the ground and form dots. Those dots multiplied to a few to then hundreds as the sound of rain met their ears and a feeling of wetness met their skin. It started to rain, their sight now slightly blocked from the sheet of water that met their vision.

Germany picked up speed. "We have to go faster or else we'll get soaked!"

Italy, just as always, when in danger was always faster than her. The exhaustion from before was forgotten as he ran ahead and turned his head back.

"Germany, follow me! I think I remember seeing an empty barn up ahead!"

"A barn?" She didn't remember seeing a barn!

"A little up ahead — see?" He pointed to it but she didn't see it. "Just trust me!"

She was about to yell at him to stop being so foolish until a deluge fell down onto them. There was water in her eyes, and it was getting harder to run. Anything at this point was fine as long as they could wait out the storm.

"You better know what you're talking about!"

He smiled and they ran until they saw the cow farm from before. Just as Italy said, there was an empty barn among the vast field. Italy led them to the by running into the wet grass. The field was uneven, more so than the muddying road they had been on, and Germany felt her entire shoes and socks get soaked because she wasn't wearing boots like Italy was.

It reminded her of the trenches for a moment and all of the awful emotions that came from the previous war came to her. The sound of another clap of thunder shocked her heart into the confusion. Was it a shell flying by or just nature? Her body couldn't distinguish it for a moment, the reaction the same, and she looked back up at the sky. It was just as gray as back then.

They made it to the front of the barn, and Germany took the lead by stepping forward and poking her head inside to see if there was anyone or anything inside. A criminal could be hiding inside thinking the exact same thing they were, and so they couldn't be too cautious. This was especially true since they were close to the border.

She didn't hear any animals nor did she smell much of anything other than the natural musk of hay and straw. There was still enough light from outside to see inside and she didn't find anything suspicious. They both entered quickly regardless.

Once inside, she realized how cold her body actually was once more insulated. When the immediate danger of elements was stripped away, she was confronted with just how badly she needed to dry off and get warm.

She caught her breath from all the running and checked up on Italy. He seemed to be doing okay. He was dripping wet like her, but he was fine.

She straightened her back up and went further back into the barn to avoid any splashing of water from where the slight cracks in the window allowed rain to come in.

"That rain really came out of nowhere!" Italy was the first to say running a hand through his hair to see how wet it was. His fringe stuck to his forehead in a way which she was unused to from how fluffy his hair normally appeared. When wet, his hair turned from a dark auburn to brown, almost black from the lack of light, and it was flat against his head as opposed to it doing whatever it wanted. He ran a hand through his hair to pull his bangs out his eyesight since his fringe was rather long, and she had never actually seen all of Italy's forehead before. It was a little amusing to her actually. But it was mainly attractive.

_He looks nice with his hair back. It makes him look cleaned up._

She kept the thought to herself and dried off her hands using the hay. It stuck to her fingers annoyingly, and so there wasn't much luck in drying off their bodies here either.

"It really did. Taking that nap was a bad idea," she replied wishing she hadn't allowed herself to drift off. That kind of behavior was expected out of Italy but not her.

She noticed him go quiet after he had shaken his hair the best he could to dry it.

Her blouse was paper glued to her skin. The white collared shirt she wore stuck to every single curve of her body with traces of her skin shining through the fabric of where it became translucent. There was nothing hiding the outline of her bra, her breasts, her navel, or waist because of how wet she had gotten. She was dripping water onto the ground, and it was difficult to move when considering the fact that her long sleeves were also wet and constricting her movements.

She caught him staring at her.

_This is like those romance novels Bruder used to read. Who knew things this happened._

"You can look somewhere else," she barked. She crossed her arms wanting to get warmth and cover what little she could from the see-through blouse.

He smiled bashfully and looked away as requested.

He glanced down at his own attire and saw that he wasn't in any better shape. "The rain really got to us, didn't it?" He wiggled his foot. "I'm pretty sure the only thing that isn't soaked is my socks."

"And now we don't know when it will stop," she responded hearing the rain pour against the roof. She shivered at the strong draft that came with the hisses of wind from outside. Germany kicked into survival mode when analyzing the situation. It was going to get dark soon with no knowledge as to when the storm would pass. They needed to make the most out of what they had if they wanted to make it through the evening.

"Our main priority is preserving body heat. We can't afford to get sick now," she said just as pragmatic as ever. Germany _especially_ couldn't sick at a time like this.

She reached for her shirt button and began to undo them. She slightly turned away from him.

"There's no benefit in staying in our wet clothes. This is the only solution to not get sick so don't take this out of context." She pulled back her fringe as well to stop the droplets from falling over her eyes and already wet clothes, and she removed her shirt with slight struggle as the soaked fabric clung onto her in resistance and slippery friction. Once off, she sprung it out the best she could with her hands. There wasn't much she could do without the sun, and so she folded it neatly against the floor. She quickly took off her shoes and soggy socks to go barefoot and take off her pants. Now she had a perfect little square of where her wet clothes were. But in her bra and underwear, she felt extremely exposed. She stood awkwardly not knowing what to do with herself when her whole body was out for display.

"Ve, I am too! I'm freezing!" he said without having any shame to take off his shirt and pants. He began taking off his underwear too, and that was where he crossed the line.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Keep your underwear on!" she cried looking away.

He looked at her confused. "What? Why?"

"F-For decency's sake you idiot! How are you comfortable being completely naked in a random stranger's barn?!" she argued only focusing on the wall to not look at him.

"You're in your bra and underwear. Isn't that just as weird?"

"DON'T REMIND ME!"

He laughed. "It's not so bad, Germany, really! You won't warm up if you keep your wet clothes on."

"I am fine just the way I am," she refused.

She didn't look fine. She was shivering.

"But Germany, you'll get sick."

"NO."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

She heard rustling noises and dared to glance back at his figure. He had put on his underwear again.

"...You didn't have to do that. You could have just hidden behind a haystack or something," she remarked after a bit of silence.

The imagery of that was funny to him. "That's even weirder!"

"It's called being decent," she defended getting rosy. She sat down and leaned her back against a stack of hay while bringing her legs up to her chest. Italy sat down too to not tower over her, and they sat in front of each other listening to the rain.

"I wish there was a way to start a fire. I'm freezing," Italy remarked with his teeth chattering. Germany rubbed her arms. She was the same.

"Starting a fire in here would be too dangerous." She looked around. "Our best chance of warmth would be to get in between some stacks of straw."

"Isn't the best way to get warmth through huddling?"

"Well yes, but that's only in extreme situations."

He got up and sat beside her, his body heat emanating onto her. For a brief second, she felt his shoulder brush against hers, and she gravitated toward him in the natural heat he always had. Perhaps it was because he was a Mediterranean country closer to the equator than she was, but he was always warm. Just as his country was always basked in the sun, he was always warm to the touch whereas she was always tepid. Even when in a drafty barn like this soaked from the rain, she could tell their differences.

"Happy now?"

He smiled. "Very! It's less lonely this way."

"I'm more focused on survival than loneliness," she stated. She looked up at the ceiling to inspect how well put together the wood was. "I hope it doesn't rain hard enough for there to be a leak. This barn looks abandoned because it's old."

"I think it'll be okay," he said optimistically. "We just have to wait for the storm to go away. At least we're dry."

"Yes, that is a good thing. But who knows how long we'll be stuck here."

"I think it'll pass soon. It looks like one of those storms that don't last long," he confided. "When I used to be out in the sea, there would be storms like this all the time."

"You think?"

"Sure!" A loud roar of thunder rolled by again, lightning illuminating the barn in the flashes of amber that streaked across the dark walls. It was a long rumble and close by, the resonance loud and echoing.

He laughed nervously. "I-It'll go away soon. D-D-Don't you worry!"

"Are you scared of storms?"

Another bolt of lightning flashed by, the thunder that followed quick but powerful. Germany looked out to the door where it downpoured. She wondered why she hadn't heard anything about a storm in the morning news.

"No," he replied meekly. "Of course not."

"The probability of us getting struck is low since we're inside," she tried comforting. "Staying by the tree would have been worse."

"I guess so." He fidgeted, glad to be with her at least. "Kinda scary to be almost naked in a thunderstorm. I feel like I'm going to die."

She leaned forward. "This is almost like the time we got stranded on that island."

"Was that really two years ago? That was so fun," he remembered happily. "We should go back with Japan one day!"

She turned her cheek listening to the wind. "He's an island nation. Why would he want to go back?"

"Because we'll all be there!" He became distracted daydreaming about the adventures they could have again when not bound by the shackles of war.

She sighed. "At least there we could build a fire."

Germany gained goosebumps when another strong draft passed by. In this shabby barn where the temperature was determined by the outside, she was quickly becoming very cold.

"I know a way we could become warm instantly without a fire," Italy said, thoughtful after hearing the rain begin to calm down.

She was intrigued. "What way is that?"

His eyes met hers, a mischievous light coming to them. "Want to know?"

"Yes. What is it?" It could be useful for a military mission if he said there was a way to get warm without a fire.

"Here, come closer. I'll tell you." He beckoned her to lean forward. She did wondering what all this secrecy could be about when they were alone in the shed, but then it all made sense to her. It all made wonderful sense when he took her lips and kissed her. She instantly felt a rush down her stomach, her face heating up, and her senses loosening in pleasure. When he kissed her, she felt warmth pool in her chest, and a hot sensation pass through her womanhood. It was especially difficult to suppress when she was in nothing but her bra and underwear. Her nipples hardened from something other than the cold, and he backed away to gauge her reaction.

"Y-You tricked me," she stated, closing her legs to tighten the buzz humming in between her thighs.

"No, I didn't. If I do this," he neared her face again, anticipation high as she held in her breath, "we can get even warmer."

She didn't castigate him when he kissed her again. Just like the night before, she didn't want to stop him. If he wanted to kiss her, he could, Germany weak when it came to such liquid pleasure in her body. It thrummed within every part of her herself, and she didn't see any reason to quit something that felt so good. This was what they wanted right?

They broke away, and she couldn't deny that what he said was true. They went back to kissing, Germany opening her mouth shyly and asking for more when she touched her tongue with his. This was all still so new to her, her instigation for them to do more reciprocated as they kissed and ignored the outside for a moment. Was there really a reason to do this right now and right here? No, not really. Was it logical, was it rational? Also, no, not really. But she didn't mind it.

"I suppose you're right," she softly agreed.

He smiled. Another strike of thunder passed by and the anxiety from before returned. She noticed this and lifted her hand to brush against his hair.

"Focus on me. I'm not going anywhere," she told him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "The thunder will leave. But I'm still going to be here," she inched closer, her large breasts only centimeters away from touching him, "cold. Are you going to fix that?"

From what she knew about the male psyche was that they adored fixing things. When presented a problem, they loved to solve it as a way to showcase their abilities. And when in sight of such an obvious problem, Italy didn't take long to weigh the options of what he needed to do.

"Alouisa," he murmured grateful, his hands taking hold of her curved waist.

Her heart jumped. She felt instantly hot when he settled his palms on her waist, the size of his hand just as amazing as last night, and she blushed realizing that he had called her by her human name.

"Feliciano," she repeated, her own version of his name less melodious because of her accent. Even so, it made him happy, another kiss inevitable. She breathed him in, the want to settle on his lap high, and she shut her eyes.

"Thank you," he said emotionally when they broke away. She didn't understand why it meant so much to him, but she was fine with not understanding.

"You promised a way to make me warm. Since you're the one who took a nap and got us caught in the rain, it only seems fair," she reasoned feeling his damp, cold locks. They were both still slightly sheened with rain, their bodies not fully dry to the touch as soft highlights danced across their skin every time they moved. Despite this, she still felt soft, her waist perfect in his hands as he held her. She was right in that she wasn't radiating the same heat as before from when they were in bed, her stomach lukewarm, and so when he touched her, she craved it more. She soaked in his heat, his hands a soothing sensation when being held by him.

"You always blame everything on me," he played along smiling, his thumb making small circles into her lower stomach. She sucked in slightly at the butterflies that occurred when he loosened his hold on her waist and gently went down her side to let her know he was right there. Him feeling her up made her feel even more excited. She felt her womanhood begin to pulse, and she couldn't believe how easily she was swayed.

"You're the one who's always causing me trouble," she reasoned blushing at his tempting hands to creep lower down her pelvic bone and tease her below the underwear line. It was almost as if he knew she was getting more and more aroused as they spoke.

"That's not good. How can I make it right?" he asked, hovering by her hips and brushing against her ass. She wanted him to touch her more, no part of her off-limits when it felt so good, and she already knew the answer when his fingers trailed up the curve of her smooth back to meet the small band of her bra. Her nipples were hard behind the cups, her large chest squished together as if asking to be freed already.

The thoughts from that morning returned to her. There was a way to make it up to her.

"I have a question for you actually," she responded losing her flirty tone. "Do you know if any of the nations have ever been fathers?"

Because if there was no instance of nations being mothers, then perhaps the inverse was true.

That snapped him out of the mood as he looked back at her confused. "Fathers?"

She turned her head toward the doors where she saw the rain hit the grass. "Humans describe nations as the Motherland but yet the world is represented mainly by males. It makes me wonder if that in itself makes them infertile."

Italy recalled his memory to try and answer her. There were many instances in which nations would take up the role of a pseudo paternal figure to a human child in need. The more philanthropic nations adored guiding children in the right direction, taking them in and then slowly fading away to let them grow up on their own, but never once has he heard rumors of a _true_ bloodline.

"No, I don't think so," he replied wishing he had a better response for her. "Maybe the ancients had something like that but I don't think that's been a thing for a long time now."

"Maybe I should ask France then," she murmured bothered enough by this now to actively consider his help.

His hold on her tightened. "France?"

"Yes, France," she replied not sure why this was a revelation to him. "He's older than you, right? He might know."

He looked down in worry. "Would you actually go to him? Isn't he the enemy?"

She made a face of confusion. "Well partly. That's never stopped me before. You learn more out your enemies than your allies."

He whispered cupping his hand around his mouth. "But isn't he kind of a huge pervert?"

She blushed with her brow ticking slightly. "Yes, I know _that._ That's no secret."

"You're really serious about this order, aren't you," he murmured almost as if realizing something, a pensive gaze that was fraught with something she could not interpret.

"Well, of course, I'm taking this seriously!" she replied shocked. "Despite how hedonistic it is in nature, it is still a command." She frowned. "My boss is now calling it Operation Hera. He said order number eighty-seven sounded as if I was getting takeout food. This is not something he is going to let go easily, and so I cannot either."

"Hera as in the Greek goddess?" he asked watching the way the light reflected off her cheek as a smaller strike of lightning flashed somewhere beyond them. His heart jolted, soft thunder followed a minute or so later, and she nodded.

"Yes. You might know her better as Juno." The nomenclature of it wasn't the priority. "But that doesn't matter. Are you not taking this seriously?"

"No, no, Germany, it's not that I'm not taking this seriously or that I'm trying to make light of this or start a fight with you because that's really the last thing I want to do right now but the thing is, it's just that." Italy took his hands off her waist, their touch ending. He hated her looking at him like that, the blue underneath her lowering eyelashes darkening as more sullen clouds covered the setting sun. The slight daylight that had been streaming through the windows was slowly fading away in the resonance of rain and wind.

It came reposed in unease. "Aren't you scared?"

"...If it is a way to win the war, then I am not scared. Whatever the means or reasons might be, I will do anything to ensure victory."

Her answer wasn't as full of confidence, as usual, a wavering mantra at the end that signaled something was awry in her typical certainty.

"Anything?" A piece of his wet fringe fell back to his forehead framing his face again. "It sounds so terrifying to me. Our bosses are trying to do something that's never been done before." He almost seemed as though he wanted to cry, maybe the reflections of their shined skin causing his irises to appear more watery than they actually were. Germany did not know. She couldn't decipher the heavy feeling below her ribs that slowly crawled down to her abdomen.

"Complacency is the enemy of success."

_What? That isn't what I meant to say at all. Why couldn't I stop myself —?_

"Our bosses are trying to do something that has never been done before to ensure that we win. We have to always be one step ahead."

She shook her head.

_That isn't what I meant!_

"What I mean to say is that..." Germany fixed his hair since it was getting in his eyes, and it bothered her. Their faces were close, emotions read easily, and when in the presence of nothing but the other, words became heavier.

"I'm doubtful that this will work. I'm apprehensive of the changes it will do to my body, to this continent if any. You're not wrong in that this is certainly a situation that could lead to unexpected, precarious results." The feeling finally cauterized within her stomach, a pressure that spread throughout her as though her emotions were made of fustian and blood.

"I should be scared. But I will continue for the good of the nation. And I have faith in that you will do the same."

He smiled, a slight wind passing by to creak the wood carefully as he looked down. "Lovino would hate me that I'm saying yes, I would. I would do the same." Right here and now, this was what mattered the most. "If it's with you, I would."

The wind died down, and it no longer felt as cold as before.

He leaned forward just as she was, his heart beating behind his chest when there was the reminder of thunder in the far distance, of her attention all on him. "Even if you say you're not scared, we always have each other. Just remember you don't have to go through this alone." Italy watched her eyes widen slightly in surprise. "I might still not be all that good when it comes to hard things, and I'll probably mess up a lot as always but I'll always do my best to have your back." He held out his pinky finger out to her. "Promise."

She hooked her smaller pinky around his confused.

"Didn't we already have an oath on this?"

He pouted. "Germany, I'm trying to be cool and manly and woo you with my amazing speech skills and undying devotion. Aren't you impressed? Don't you feel a million times better now?"

"You have yet to show great bravery so no, not really. At this point, I don't think you're ever going to get your necklace back."

"Alouisa," he fake gasped. "You're mean," he replied laughing at the end of it.

She sighed good-natured and shook her hand slightly to the pinky promise. "Alright, alright, you were very cool. I'll let you have your moment." She moved her arm back to her side.

"I will hold you accountable for that though. Anything for victory."

He smiled back at her. "Anything for victory."

She pushed Italy onto his back, his eyes widening in surprise as she hovered over him. She gazed down at him, his face slightly hard to see from the lack of light, the clouds black yet calm, and she straddled him.

"But if you must know, I am still cold. So let's see how useful your tactic really is." 

Because even when cold to the touch, Italy was able to make her warm throughout a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda a filler chapter but also not. Lots of important dialogue in this one. 
> 
> Would you guys like to see the smut scene that is associated with this scene as the next chapter? Originally this was going be another sex scene where they get trapped in the barn and just go at it, but the lack of plot progression bothered me so I wrote this up instead. It wouldn't be as purple prosey as the date night because the initial shock factor of sex would be gone. Let me know, and I'll be glad to post it!
> 
> I love the small canon detail from Buon San Valentino that Germany's heliotropes grow in proportion to his feelings. So I added it in here. 
> 
> Germany also REALLY needs some female friends since that poor bb is so uneducated about her body. She didn't pee after sex to help prevent getting an infection, and the leakage that she found that morning is normal. Germany believes it's her body acting against her and that it's something to be anxious about, but it's not atypical and most definitely doesn't prevent chances of pregnancy. If only she knew it was just cum slipping out and that's it lmao. 
> 
> I want to say finally a HUGE thank you to everyone who has been commenting, bookmarking, and just generally supporting this fic. It means the world to me!! Feedback and critique are always welcomed and so don't forget to leave a review below. Kudos are appreciated and I will see you guys in the next chapter!


	8. And So the Domino Falls

His method of avoiding extreme temperatures was perhaps more practical than she thought as she felt the heat of his hand go across her shoulder blades. The width of her back wasn't large when in comparison to his palm that roamed across her porous skin that remained tepid from the layer of rain that had sunk in.

He smiled. "You never know unless you try, right? Here's to not dying from hypothermia!"

"We're not going to die from hypothermia," she responded mirthfully at his exaggeration. "This is nothing in comparison to battling Russia."

Italy was reminded of that gruesome invasion from a year ago.

"You want to know something, Germany?" he asked, observing the way she tilted her head in slight curiosity to show she was listening.

"What is it?"

"Is it bad that I'm glad that you're no longer allies with him?"

She was surprised but considered his question.

"Well yes, you should. He was a valuable ally." She was struck with guilt. "If I hadn't been ordered to, I wouldn't have invaded him. It's unfortunate the things we have to do for war."

Italy's fingers reached for the back of her bra to undo the hooks. His fingers fiddled with the metal clasps on the small of her back, the endings and beginnings of the hooks difficult to make out with nothing but touch, and this bra seemed much more complicated than the one from last night.

Germany felt him struggle and moved her torso up to help him.

"Here. It's stubborn," she said knowing that the hooks of this brassiere were old and not easy to take off. She reached back to her bra band with ease due to her flexibility and undid the hooks. It took familiarity to get it done right the first time, and it wasn't something she would have expected Italy to know when he doesn't have to deal with this every day.

The nude bra became undone and fell to the ground. Her large, round breasts became exposed, pretty hard nipples jeweled in pink to where they perked up in the middle of equally pink, large areolas. Goosebumps became apparent around them when Germany felt a rush of cold air hit her skin. Her breasts were sheened with slight moisture from where the soaked shirt and bra had clung onto her, and where the sliver of pale light streamed in from the window, he could see the faint sight of highlights around the swelling of her chest.

She moved down on him as a response to the sudden removal of her undergarment and her buoyant, pale breasts became squished against the flush of his heated chest.

Italy smiled not all that bothered to not have done it himself. "That bra seems annoying. You should get a new one." He sought to touch her, the hand on her back going down to the curve of her tapered-in waist to then go down the undulations of her hips and ass. With nothing but her underwear, he could feel everything, the fabric of her underwear riding up her cheeks as she spread her thickened thighs around his waist. The smooth curvature of her glutes remained firm from the weight training she did, Germany well-defined everywhere fingers met her body. Soft yet strong, what a body to marvel as he took hold of her cheeks with his hands to grope.

Germany's face bloomed. Her heartbeat began to race when she felt Italy touching her so inappropriately, something like this causing a whirling sentiment of guilty pleasure.

"Maybe you shouldn't wear one at all. Seems uncomfortable." His hands gripped onto her ass, at the softness of her skin, a hum passing by as she felt something hardening underneath her. His cock pumped with rapid rushes of blood, his dick stiffening quickly in between her thighs that straddled him.

"Doesn't this feel better?" he asked having to know she was already going to sway to saying yes when her stomach started coiling in wonderful pressure at the feeling of his hands on her ass, her breasts on his bare chest, and his cock hard right in between her thickened thighs. She spread unintentionally to have his member poking nearer her clit as she moved up on him. Her labial lips opened from how she was straddled, the fabric of underwear useless when every single fold and crevice could be felt anyway, and it caused a deep-rooted desire for friction when she went up on his cock. She arched slightly, the s-line curve of her body on top of his a silhouette in the darkness of the barn.

"Want to know something?" she asked in retaliation.

"What?"

"You're a real pervert. That's what you are behind all that fake Italian charm." She went close to his lips. "A, as my brother would call it, a horn dog."

He seemed to want to laugh at her tone, in embarrassment or amusement she did not know, his smile causing her to begin smiling as well. It was hard to kiss him when he was smiling, Germany having the half-hearted urge to tell him to stop, this was _serious_ _of course,_ but she couldn't and what ended up happening was their teeth clacking together with none of their attempts working. Italy couldn't help it and laughed slightly.

Germany could probably melt something on her face. She thought he was laughing at her, but instead, he loosely tucked back a piece of her fringe as a wordless apology.

"A horn dog? I can't believe that's how you see me. I'm hurt," he said obviously anything but. "Thy lady shall then be treated with the utmost respect."

She almost gagged. That was worse.

"It's my England impression. What do you think?" he asked seeing this to just be so much fun, a flash of small lightning illuminated the barn, their bodies exposed in white for only a second.

Germany placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself and raised her torso slightly up from him, their bodies creating heat quickly to almost paste them together.

"I think you should focus on me and not England," she replied, rocking her hips on his member. His cock strained underneath her, his breathing quickening and the smile from before morphing into an expression of pleasure as she rolled her pussy on top of his groin. She was a tease, wasn't she, settling her weight on his lap and trapping his cock right in between the heat of her thighs. Steadily she went _back and forth, back and forth_ , right on his member that throbbed in wanting. His shaft twitched, a buzzing haziness of pleasure clouding his senses. Germany went at it like this for a minute or so, languid, careful, as she gently ran her hands across his chest and neck.

It felt good like this, going slow and deep, Germany moaning slightly at the growing warmth in the base of her womanhood. She was getting wet even from something like this, her precision to rub against her clit the most important as she moved against him. Her flat stomach flexed in the dimming light, the movement calling attention to her small waist and wide hips that straddled around him.

"Do you want me to go faster?" she asked, making up for the complete lack of control she had the night before.

Italy made a little strangled sound, Germany feeling his member go up against her in more pressure.

Tantalizing fingers went up to his throat, his Adam's apple seen in shadows and contours from where she saw him tilt his head up on the ground to stretch his neck and extenuate his jawline. She thumbed up to his cheek and leaned down once more. There didn't need to be words when their mouths opened and they kissed, Germany allowing his tongue to enter with an aroused breath out as she started to go faster.

Fast tongue and saliva, that was all they needed as their lips met once, twice, thrice, however many times they needed here where time didn't matter anymore. Germany flushed at the open-mouthed kiss that was everything but careful. The noises that they made were erotic within themselves, breathy and somewhat desperate by how quickly they always came back to each other, and she heard her name whispered as if in a daze.

"You feel so good, Alouisa," he murmured lowly just wanting more of her right now.

She continued to rut over his cock quicker to feel his stiffness below her, a wonderful sensation of heat and something hard yet sensitive enough to move along the opening of her vagina. Her large breasts bounced slightly from her inertia, her nipples hard and squished flat on his chest from where she had once again lied down on him to kiss him. Skin on skin contact, _this_ was what she needed, the chill from before gone and forgotten as she felt a fire stir up in her stomach and travel all throughout her pussy in waves of pleasurable electricity. She was getting impatient fast, Germany's underwear wet now for a different reason, and she was sure that if she were to check, there would be a dark, vertical strip on her panties right below where her vagina was.

It was proof enough of her desire as she felt how slick she was down below, and with his hands trailing down her waist, over her back, and then once again to her ass, she whimpered slightly.

They broke apart to catch their breath, Germany practically now almost bouncing on him to target where she wanted, and she lifted her pelvis up to remove contact between them. She pulled down the hemline of his underwear, his cock going down with the undergarment to then spring up hard and slightly red. His head was swollen and aching, a tilt of the head easy to see the precum spilling out, and she clasped her hand around his member to pump.

"And does this feel good?" she asked half coy, half-serious since last time she apparently had her grip too tight. It seemed that she had improved since the last time because he hissed yes, yes, it felt amazing.

"I'm going to cum soon," he warned, not knowing how much more he could take when she exhaled aroused and stroked him.

She was close too. "Do it inside of me." She looked into his eyes half-lidded. "Hurry. Go inside."

Italy took her by the waist and flipped her to the side, Italy behind her as she suddenly felt his member poke her ass.

He tugged down her underwear, the cotton piece almost glued onto her from heat and rain, but eventually it was pooled around her ankles as it went down in haste. Slowly, he inserted himself into her, the eagerness to just take her diverting when realizing that this was still new to her. Germany appreciated the forethought, apprehension still present because this was a new position than last night, and she braced herself once again for something physical to split her apart. She waited to feel his tip, Germany hoping it wouldn't hurt because she was on her side and not on her back, and then she felt the radiating heat of his cock ingress into her carefully.

She felt slightly stretched down below, and she opened up her legs to make insertion easier. She bit her lip making a cute little noise as he went into her inch by inch.

_It feels just as good as yesterday. I now know why people are obsessed with doing this. I can't think straight. His cock is so warm and feels so good._

She needed him to make the painful, swollen feeling of being empty satiated. She craved something physical inside of her, something to rub against her walls, something to grind and move and provide her the friction she wanted to the burning sensation she held within. She wanted him, and when his cock finally made itself fully in, she covered her mouth with the back of her palm. She shut her eyes.

_I can feel his heartbeat in me. It's so fast._

"You're really wet," he mentioned near her ear, the proximity of his aroused, lower voice causing shivers. Just like the night before, not being able to see him excited her more than it should have, the anonymity of just a cock in her with no face stirring something deep inside the coiling pleasure.

"I-It did rain on us," she answered when he started to move against her. In and out his member went inside of her, her walls clamping around him in slick and a grip that felt _god so good,_ and she panted with a redness that spread across her nose and cheeks. She closed her fingers over her palm on the ground as her body jostled as he thrust into her.

"You can't blame everything on the rain," he teased. Just as she said before, he was nothing but a pervert because suddenly he was groping her breasts from behind. She gasped not expecting him to handle her chest so suddenly, and she tilted her head down as a sign of submission as pleasure ricocheted throughout her. Dirty, dirty, that was all she wanted, as he kneaded her large, bouncing tits and thumbed at the sensitive nipple briefly.

"You feel amazing," he said, drowning into her. She was soft, soft, his hands big but not enough to fully cup her milky breasts that jiggled from his control. With her neck exposed, her expression visible, he wanted to kiss her one last time.

And that was what he did.

Germany couldn't fight it, didn't want to when the pace was just right, the force from yesterday remembered by Italy, and lips met breath as they kissed. He thrust into her, her chest claimed by his hands, and she shut her eyes wanting to see nothing but black. Something echoed beyond these walls, and if she didn't know better, it was the beating of her heart crashing against the ground in a burst of light from the flash that came across the window.

In what felt like seconds, she heard him say he was cumming inside of her. She felt the initial burst of semen but nothing after, and it couldn't have been at a better time as she too orgasmed and let her body go. She couldn't describe the euphoria that passed over her body, a floating, tipping sort of pleasure that washed over in a wave. The contractions within her stomach let loose, her kegel muscles tight around him as she basked in the high. It felt simply so amazing, and she lied on the ground coming to realize that it was still raining outside. The air between them was warm, her skin now dewy from the small sweat they gained.

Her kissed, pink lips parted as she panted. She turned her head to the side, the sound of the straw on the ground crunching around her as she faced the direction of the window.

"The rain is gone," she noticed softly. "You didn't even hear the thunder, did you?"

Italy pulled her in close. "I did. But I have to get that cross back somehow don't I?"

Germany gave a sigh out at the smile curving on her neck. She supposed he did.

* * *

Italy stayed with Germany for a couple of days before he was summoned to his capital again for urgent matters. It came through a rapid knock on the door, Germany raising her head underneath the covers in the confusion of who it could be so early in the morning. Italy didn't wake up from the loud noise, and she got dressed quickly. At four in the morning in a haphazardous countenance, she was handed a letter to be given to Private Veneziano Italy immediately. The soldier didn't stay long, appearing somewhat flustered by her presence. She closed the door and yawned going up the stairs.

Once in her room, Italy had woken up blearily. He rubbed his eyes wondering if she was really walking around in his shirt quickly tucked into trousers with messy hair. The sun had yet to rise, the sky not black but shying in dark blue at the light that would permeate soon enough across the sky. Birds chirped happily enough outside, and yet it was peaceful in the quiet that settled in the room.

"You have a letter," she told him, placing the envelope on the left nightstand. He rose up stretching.

"Who's it from? Did Romano write?" he asked.

"It's from your boss. You've been getting called a lot," she noticed.

Italy didn't let his worry show through.

She was right. Ever since summer, he has been getting pulled left and right with meetings. It wasn't as easy as it had been when the war first started, when Japan had been with them and his main worry had been about training and not getting yelled at by Germany.

In the early years, it had been nothing short of amazing that Germany had the time, strength, and patience to train him and Japan while still invading countries and winning in battles. She carried the war on her back effortlessly, and yet she still had the faith that someone like Italy could equal her strength and determination. She believed in him despite how useless he always seemed to be, and it made him look down in guilt. Seeing her like this was nice but not when in the knowledge of why.

"Did I wake you up?" Germany asked curiously. Italy usually slept like a rock, and she was sure the knocking couldn't have been enough to rouse him awake.

"I have to go pee," he replied, pulling the covers away to walk to the bathroom.

She threw his boxers in his face getting red. It landed on his nose and it fell to the ground from where he stopped in front of the bed. "Put on some damn pants! You can't keep just streaking around here naked!"

"Mmkay," he agreed mindlessly, bending over to put on the underwear that seemed optional to him. Once covered, he closed the bathroom door to do his business.

She held onto the letter as she heard Italy freshen up for the day. He wasn't planning on going back to bed it seemed like as she heard the faucet run as he brushed his teeth.

When he came out, he was much more awake. The drowsiness from before was gone, and she walked toward him to give him the message. "This is for you."

He took it and placed it down by his bedside not even looking at the sender or what was written on the cover. He wrapped himself behind her, his arm hugging her neck.

She was surprised and held onto his forearm loosely. "Aren't you going to open it?"

He buried his nose deeper into her neck. "No, not right now. I'll open it later."

"For a message to be sent at this hour, the letter must be important. It could be something urgent," she reasoned pulling his arms away from her so that she could walk over to the stand and pick up the white envelope. She placed it into his hands so that he couldn't run away from it and waited for him to open it.

"Go on. See what it says," she prompted crossing her arms.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair to see what his boss could want now.

For Germany, seeing Italy stressed wasn't a comforting sight. _I hope everything is okay. I wish I could do more,_ she thought when seeing Italy's eyebrows furrow as he read the contents of the message. She stood on the side waiting for when he would be done, and the longer that he read, the less she liked the situation. Italy's face morphed into one of shock, his eyes rounding once getting to the bottom. She saw him dart his gaze away as if in thought, his mind racing by the way he reread to then look away again, and she felt anxiety foment within her.

"Is it something bad?" she asked sensing something critical.

He looked up at her, their gazes meeting in a way that settled the anxiety deeper in her stomach. She knew the answer already.

"I have to go," he answered with his mind clearly on something heavy.

"Have you been called to battle?"

"Something like that," he responded vaguely. "I don't know when I'll be back."

That only made her more worried. _Don't go. Stay here._

But no refusal came. "You should hurry then if it's that important."

"I'm sorry," he apologized, getting dressed quickly. "I wish I didn't have to leave like this."

Daybreak was approaching, the sun rising to slowly make the room glow in subtle light through the curtains. She watched him.

"It's fine. You have to do what you have to do." Her voice of understanding didn't alleviate his pressing thoughts. "Do you want to eat something before you go?"

"No, I'm okay. I'm not too hungry right now," he declined.

"Oh, alright then," she accepted finding it strange for him to not even have coffee. _It must be a pressing matter,_ she deduced. She walked him to the door to see him off once he was done getting dressed.

It was chilly for early morning, autumn a breath away. "Be careful. Remember to tie your damn shoes for —" She looked down at his boots. He had laced them right this time.

"Well. You should be going."

He hugged her as always, Germany sighing as she patted his back to return the physical contact. "Goodbye, Italy."

"I'll be back soon," he said smiling and turning around with the letter in his hand. Germany stayed at the door for a moment longer before closing the door in thought.

_Why had he been clenching onto the letter?_

* * *

Italy made it to Rome by the late evening of that same day, and it didn't take long for him to find his brother. He spotted him walking out of his house smoking a cigarette to go somewhere he didn't know. Maybe he was out to talk to their boss, maybe he wasn't, this now a matter between them and not their government.

"Romano!" he called loudly, waving over so that he heard. Romano's head snapped to whoever wasn't calling his human name, and he dragged the cigarette out when he saw that it was only him.

Italy caught up to him quickly, and Romano waited in place for when he would come over.

"About time you got your ass here," Romano snapped as soon Italy was beside him. "Do you know how much of a fucking pain it was to figure out you weren't at your house? We had to delay the meeting because of you." Romano scrutinized him for a moment. "You're here early too. You do know it's tomorrow right?"

Italy didn't have time for that. "Are you here because you're going to declare war on the Axis?"

Romano's eyes narrowed. "It wasn't just me, but yeah. That's what the meeting is about. Say goodbye to your little friends."

Italy couldn't believe the telegram had been true. "What? Lovino!"

"Don't act so damn surprised! It's not like you didn't feel it coming. No one wants to be in this shit war anymore," he retaliated not knowing why his brother was acting as if he had committed some cardinal sin.

"So you just decide to surrender without telling me?" He was more bothered about the fact that his older brother had done this without asking him what he thought about it.

"Because I know what you would have said! You would have tried to talk me out of it, but since _I'm_ the only one with fucking common sense around here, I did what I had to do," he responded irritated dragging out his cigarette.

"With a decision as big as that, I would have at least like to have known about this sooner! I had no idea you wanted to leave the Axis so badly until a little while ago, and you didn't even bother to talk to me about it. This is a huge decision," Italy replied hurt that he wasn't deemed responsible enough to hold serious conversations about the state of their country.

"Probably because your head is so shoved up Germany's ass!" Romano's voice rose. Italy wanted to respond, but he didn't have a chance to interject.

"Even if I for some reason _wanted_ to talk to you, you're never actually fucking here. Not everything works off of your schedule, bastard. And," he pointed the burning cigarette toward Italy's face, "if you had been paying _any_ sort of attention, you would have known this wasn't something just 'out of the blue'. You're making me out to be some crazy guy when you know as well as I do that this war is going to shit."

"I'm here just as much as you are," Italy refused knowing Romano to exaggerate things for the sake of an argument. "It's only been this past month or so that I've been gone more than usual. Usually, when I did want to talk to you, you would be at Spain's house too."

Romano's face colored. "As if I'm at the bastard's place!"

Italy was confused. "Then where do you go?"

"That isn't the fucking point," Romano diverted getting shifty. "Don't change the subject."

"But it _does_ matter," Italy emphasized. "I can't read your mind. You were mad at me at the last meeting too but you didn't tell me anything. I was there for three more days but I couldn't find you anywhere."

Romano's scowl tightened. "I was busy, okay? It's not like your ass was constantly getting chewed out by Mussolini."

Italy knew it was pointless to try and make Romano open up more about his whereabouts, whatever secrets he held close to his heart there to be locked in silence.

And it was this that frightened him slightly, a realization coming in further and further murkiness. "How long have you wanted this?"

Romano tsked. "Too damn long, I'll tell you that."

"But —"

He waved his arms around angrily, the scent of nicotine following. "There's no reason to stay! Get it through your head that things aren't going to get better just because you fucking hope they will — because you ignore them!"

"We can't make an enemy out of Germany," Italy reasoned with badly concealed trepidation. "You know how strong she is. If we wage war against her, she won't hold back."

Romano scowled. "If we leave, she'll be trapped. She's strong, but she's not strong enough to fight from every side. We'll be joining America, Britain, _and_ Russia. Japan is out fighting in the Pacific — you really think he's going to help her out? She would have to be a fucking superhuman to defend every single side of her country while surviving bombings."

This made his stomach sink. "But the Pact," he weakly refuted. "We made a promise."

"What about it? Things change." Romano got close to him. "If Germany were in our shoes, she would do the exact same thing. She betrayed Russia. They had a pact. Where's her damn loyalty? She keeps us because she doesn't take us seriously. We're convenient. The moment it's not, you don't think she wouldn't have second thoughts about this fucking 'pact'? Think with your brain for a moment, you dumbass."

_That isn't true. There's almost nothing convenient about allying with us in the first place. She didn't want to attack Russia. She was ordered too. Does he not see the difference between her and her boss?_

Perhaps not because that would imply humanity in beings such as them primarily motivated by survival and collective thought.

"If that were true, she would have already turned against us," Italy defended. "You want to know how I know she isn't just using us? If she was, she would have dropped us as soon as the Ethiopian campaign failed. If she was as cold-hearted as you make her out to be, then why is it _us_ betraying her?"

Romano couldn't see how Italy was so dense. "Because she wants to control us! She knows you'll follow whatever she says like a little lapdog. She can't make Russia her little bitch. But with you, with us, we're pawns."

_Germany is not the one controlling us. Fear is. That's all we are. We're cowards that can't see anything through to the end._

"Don't you see how brain-washed you are? All you talk about is Germany this, Germany that, but see what happens when you start to have autonomy." Romano had never looked so certain of something, his hazel eyes shining a dark green in the evening sun that fell across the sky. "See how she'll react to you not wanting to follow her every exact order anymore. She'll hate you."

Italy's brows turned worried. "That isn't true. Germany's not like that. You don't even talk to her — how would you know what she's like?"

"Look at it, you fucking idiot!" Romano screamed. He gestured to the rubble all around their feet, Italy's eyes watering at the thousands of years of history crumbled to mere debris by the uneven road. The bombs had left nothing of their grandfather's memory, Romano's heart riven with the blows to his land. This was his birthplace, where his first steps were ever taken. His people were hurting, and all that was left was ruin. Lovino stood amidst the destruction of a legacy.

"If we keep at this war, there's not going to _be_ a fucking Italy! Is she going to bring these buildings back? Is she going to bring back the dead?!"

Italy's breath was stuck in his throat. Romano was right. Germany couldn't bring back the city. Germany couldn't bring back the lives lost.

"Listen," Lovino said less harshly since Feliciano looked like he was about to break down. "There's nothing to gain from staying with Germany. You know how Germany's shitty boss looks at us, don't you?" He tightened his hold over his cigarette. "Didn't you find it just a _little_ strange that he ordered _you_ specifically to do this with her?"

Italy looked down. "I mean...I guess. It was really sudden. But it's not that weird, right? We're allies."

" _Former_ ally," Romano corrected. "And you're not fucking getting it. He specifically wanted _you. Northern_ Italy."

Italy's stomach sunk.

_Oh._

His tongue curled back.

He understood now.

"Did...you want to be part of the order too?"

"NO!" Romano exploded wanting to rip his hair out at how simple-minded his younger brother was.

"I don't give a flying fuck about that! I know why _Southern_ Italy wasn't included but think, Veneziano, please for the love of fucking God, just _think._ Why would that crazy asshole choose you over Norway, France, hell even Poland?"

Italy wrung his hands not knowing the answer that seemed so obvious.

"I don't know, _Fratello."_ His pulse traveled up to his throat to bounce in between skin and veins. "That was why I was surprised too. It still doesn't make much sense to me. I know he likes our art and music so maybe that's why?" he justified weakly.

"Your music. Your art. He only sees potential in you because you have Florence." He scoffed. "But Naples? Sicily? There's nothing _intelligent_ about that."

Italy felt his skin crawl. He couldn't help the way he was just as Romano couldn't either, the guilt that came with his fortunate existence striking in sharp, quick stabs down his chest. It was true that the Renaissance began in Florence and therefore brought forth the knowledge of the Roman empire once again to Europe, rationality and innovation — _Germany's fundamental qualities —_ but that didn't make him superior to Romano who _literally_ had their grandfather's memory in his blood. If anything, he was the fake.

"You know that isn't true, Lovino," Italy said, losing the frustration from before when seeing perhaps the deeper issue at hand. "You know none of that is true." Italy looked up sorrowful, the mistreatment Romano has received making him sad. He opened his arms to give Romano a hug and tried pulling him in close.

Romano pushed Italy away once again red to the face. "Ugh! You and your damn hug therapy! I don't need your pity!"

Italy was pushed away, and Romano straightened himself out.

"He wants to tear this country apart. He wants to tear _us_ apart. It's as simple as that. You knock up Germany," he made air quotes around his next word, "bless the child or whatever and become hostage to Germany like the good little Fascist that you are." Romano stared him down.

"It's all about control."

"Germany cares about both of us, though! She wouldn't let that happen. If —" _If only she knew._

"Even if she cares about us, she won't protect us. What's there to win by staying? What are you fighting for?"

_What am I fighting for?_

He thought back to Germany's sad look by the field. _"I wish life was always like this."_ He thought about her alone at the house. He thought about her smile, her face tinctured with red, and the way she had looked when he had rushed out the door that morning.

_I want to make her proud. I want to protect her._

"We made a pact, Lovi," he said, never having felt this torn before. "I can't betray her."

"So you would rather turn your back on your people?" Romano asked, not believing it. "She's more important than your own fucking citizens?"

He winced. He was being an awful nation right now.

_"— Feliciano Vargas? I like it —"_

To be human was to be selfish. They were not human. They could not be selfish.

"Don't tell me that," Romano started off hesitantly, "you actually went through with it."

He looked up. "What do you mean?" Sure, it was a bit strange to talk about his sex life with his brother at a time like this but it wasn't a weird concept altogether.

"Your dumbass didn't get her pregnant, did you?"

Italy's eyes widened. "Oh, no! She's not pregnant! At least, I don't think she is. Can you get pregnant in three weeks?"

Romano's face got crimson. "Hell, if I know. ANYWAY. I don't want to know about that."

"Is there no other way? Is this the only option?" Italy asked not knowing what to do with such a revelation.

Romano crossed his arms and looked out to the rubble. "It's too late to change anything. Just because you've been busy fucking around with Germany doesn't mean reality hasn't moved on without you." Romano seemed tired, the inhale of the cigarette a sedation to the stress. He looked at him and then turned around. He walked away, and Italy followed.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Out to eat. Hurry up if you want to come, bastard," Romano said putting his hands into his pockets. Italy made it to Romano's side hungry and thought about how nice it looked for them to walk together. The sun was going down just as beautifully as the time he had been driven to Rome to be told about the order.

Fleeting, romanticized, easily torn apart yet bound by something on paper. If he didn't know better, they were nothing more than a sketch on a page.

* * *

The walk back to Germany was one laden in somberness, a dapple-grayness coating the sky. Every time he imagined knocking on the door and telling her the news, his heart would clench in deep, unrelenting sadness. She was the most important thing to him, the depth of how much he wanted her to be happy most likely never enough to be expressed in any meaningful way he could produce, and as he approached her house, he felt his chest tighten.

It was peaceful in Frankfurt, her house another copy of the other so that no one would ever suspect she was a nation. He knocked on her door, and he shifted anxiously.

She opened the door promptly at the sound of someone knocking, and her face lightened at the sight of him.

"You're back soon," she commented, finding it strange that he wasn't rushing to hug her or kiss her as a greeting. She let him in noticing his mood. "Was it really that bad?"

Italy needed to do this fast. Because if he didn't, he was going to cry.

"I have something important to tell you," he said, keeping his eyes uncharacteristically low.

"What is it?"

"Germany, I can't be here anymore," he said regretfully hoping she wouldn't blow up on him.

"You came here to tell me you're leaving?" she asked, confused as to why he showed up at all.

Italy couldn't look at her. Seeing Germany's innocent face made his throat choke up.

"Do you have a dangerous mission?" she prodded sensing something wrong.

"No, it's not that. Have you been keeping up with the news?" he dodged, not wanting to say it.

"No. I fell asleep after dinner. I had a terrible headache yesterday so I didn't have a chance to listen to the radio. Did something important happen? Do you need help?"

Italy's gut clenched. He couldn't cry now. Not in front of her.

"No. I won't be needing your help anymore. I've...I've switched sides. I'm not part of the Axis Powers anymore."

She furrowed her brows trying to understand. "You're dropping out of the war? You've surrendered?!"

"Yes, Germany. My country has surrendered," he agreed, not being able to meet her eyes.

"But why?" She came closer and clutched onto the sleeve of his shirt. She looked into his eyes with deep worry and slight fear. "I know you were weak, but surely you're not this cowardly! You have to keep fighting! This is not the time to back out!"

"Germany—"

"Just because I'm not in active service at the moment, doesn't mean I won't come to help you," she stated firmly. And her loyalty to him made him want to sink into the Earth.

"I know you would," he said, sad by how true those words were. "I don't have any doubts about that."

"Then why drop out? We've gotten this far!" she exclaimed. "Are you low on rations? Do you require back up? America's been a pain ever since he joined the war. Don't let him intimidate you. Just remember your training and —"

"I'm at war with you! Italy doesn't want anything to do with Germany anymore!" he finally cut through not being able to stomach hearing her anymore.

"You've declared war on me?" Her hand fell limp. "You're part of the Allies now?"

"I — "

"Were you faking it this entire time?" she suddenly came to realize, his treachery leaving her frozen in a burning cage of fiery rage. "Were you just waiting to turn your back on me? Was this part of your plan this entire time?!"

"No! It wasn't," he rushed, wishing she would believe him. "I didn't think that America and England would storm through Sicily! There wasn't any other choice. I was going to lose anyway. It's been over since July."

"July," she breathed. "What do you mean it's been over since July?"

Italy bit his lip. "I don't know if you know, but my king ousted Mussolini in August. My people...they were overjoyed. My people don't care about being fascist anymore. The Allies are bombing Rome without stopping, morale is low, and we're not you, Germany. We're not strong. Romano was going to leave regardless." He looked down. "I can't leave him."

He stepped forward bracing himself for the outburst, her face of hurt clenching his heart as though grabbed by a fist.

"If I could, I would stay! I would! I don't want to betray you!"

She gave him the coldest look he had ever seen from her. Her hand opened the drawer near the door and drew out a pistol. She cocked it quickly, the reality of an enemy in her land setting off her survival, military instincts as she felt the weight of the heavy, silver bullets in the new, polished gun. She pointed it toward Italy, her aim directly to his heart in the fragile case of bones he called a chest, and his eyes widened at the cold finger ready to press the trigger. She stepped forward as he slowly moved backward, the silence in the hallway palpable within those walls and beating hearts. Her shadow cast across the wooden floor, the red, burning sun melting behind her. His shoes tapped against the floor as she stalked toward him carefully, his arms rising up in the universal sign of surrender. She tightened her mouth and looked him in the eye.

_"Get out of my sight before I kill you."_

Knowing she would actually shoot him, he didn't dare gamble a second longer with her mercifulness and ran out the door. The glass of her door frame rattled as he shut it and ran away like the pathetic nation he was, his feet taking him as far as they could. She knew by now, the few seconds that passed in silence of where he used to be, Italy was most likely off her lawn and off to her southern border to home.

She kept her gun cocked for some time as if he would come back, and, of course, he didn't. Five minutes passed without any word, silence, a threadbare sense of consciousness settling in, and she slowly lowered her arm.

And what should have been brimming, seething rage was only sadness, a sadness embroiled with loneliness and pain.

Italy had run away with a piece of her heart, and she had been a fool for believing he would keep it in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand shit has hit the fan. Never underestimate my ability to turn something lulzy into an absolute angst fest. From this point on, a lot more of the story's focus is going to be on the drama and the darker reality of this order. It was sweet and fluffy because Italy was in the picture but now...
> 
> Normally, I wouldn't depict Germany to be so angry at Italy for leaving. My hc is that Germany was more so annoyed at Italy's surrender as opposed to being enraged. I imagine him being like: "Well, great. Italy chickened out." But because this Germany's situation is so much different, her reaction is also much different. Poor Germany.
> 
> More serious tension between the Italy brothers in this one. For those that like brotherly drama, I hope this was satisfying. It was kinda painful to write. I felt so bad for both of them. Can anyone guess where Romano heads off too?
> 
> As you probably noticed, I decided to post the smut scene. It's a shortened version since I didn't think another 11k smut scene was necessary so I did the best of both worlds. Smut at the beginning, total angst by the ending. What a chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'm excited to know what you guys thought about this chapter. Leave a comment to let me know! Mad at me for pulling this plot twist? I'll honestly take that too lmao. Leave a review and as always kudos are also super appreciated. All bookmarks and shares are loved.
> 
> The next chapter is going to be intense. Be prepared yall. I will see you lovelies very soon! :)


	9. And So it is to Live in Discord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!
> 
> Strong sexism is present in this part. Conversations of sexual harassment, rape, racism, and antisemitism are spoken about mid-way throughout the chapter so if you are sensitive to these topics, please read at your discretion. There is also emotional manipulation at play, so I just wanted to give a heads up since I know not everyone checks through the wall of tags. And, of course, none of these things reflect my personal views!

Germany wasn't one to go against her boss's orders but she needed to talk to him _now._

She made it to the _Führer's_ room, chaos surrounding her from the "intruder", and she didn't bother knocking. She barged in because _dammit she was Germany, and she deserved some answers here._

"Did you know that Italy was going to surrender?" she demanded marching into the dark office. She hadn't disrupted anything, her boss looking over papers in half-interest, and he looked up surprised to see her.

"It didn't shock me," he replied, giving her a look to explain why she was bothering him when she had not been called for.

She slammed her hand down on his desk and leaned forward. "Why didn't you tell me that Mussolini was ousted from office in August?"

"Because those are matters that are of no concern to you."

"No concern? It's very much a concern of mine when I was housing a traitor! Why didn't anyone inform me that Italy's loyalty had shifted?" she seethed.

"You have access to the newspaper," he dismissed.

His attitude pissed her off. "Did you know this would happen?"

He sprung up out of his seat. "Cowards! They are nothing but cowards!" He clicked his tongue gripping onto his pen. "Of course, I knew of their upcoming betrayal. But even I thought that Veneziano would have more resilience than that!"

His clock ticked. Another second went by as her heart sunk further.

_Even he knew?_

Another second went by.

_And I was the last to know._

"I already had plans for when this day would come. I was going to spare Veneziano if he could have passed my test. He seemed like one of the better Italians, loyal, but even _he_ is nothing but a weak excuse of a man!"

Everything was going too fast. Words were dry on her tongue. Her throat was stuffed with cotton, and the clock ticked uncaringly.

"Test?"

"Northern Italy had a choice, did he not?" Hitler posed. "Between staying with you, the mother of his potential son, or becoming submissive to the Allies to instead prioritize his brother. The day of surrender was inevitable. Italy already knew this as well. What he would do then was my test. And he failed." He seemed irritated that he himself placed faith into the idea.

"Those Italians proved exactly what I thought them to be. So let them surrender! We will crush them regardless." His fist clenched. "Such a helpless, weak species has no place being allied with the _Reich_. Spineless, _gutless_ cowards!"

Germany felt as though she wasn't in her body for a moment.

_It was all a test? I was just a way to prove the loyalty that was never there?_

"But why didn't you tell me this earlier," she defaulted to anger. "If I had known before, I would have approached this much differently!"

"It had to be believable," he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the room. "I didn't want you to skew the results."

Germany's teeth ground together. "You are still not answering me. In your plan, Veneziano's paternal legitimacy of this hypothetical child gives power to the Italian government. So then why would you implement this mission knowing they were going to abandon us? You've created a political mess. If I had known the situation, I wouldn't have —!" She stopped herself. She was going to reveal something that didn't want to be said, let alone acknowledged.

"You really think the Italians have that kind of power?" he laughed. "What are they going to do? _Invade_ us?" He frowned when placing a hand up to silence her. "It should not be me that you're angry with. It should be Italy."

"Excuse my anger for having my body unknowingly used as a trap," she replied infuriated. "Almost a month was wasted from this ridiculous mission when I could have been on the war front! All of this led to what? Now we are worse off than before!"

"It's Italy's fault." Seeing as she was about to refuse, he continued. "I gave you compensation. I gave you privacy, and I gave you leisure. Did I ever once force your legs open? Did I ever lay a hand on you? What did I _really_ do? I removed your position in the military in exchange for something much more valuable. It was something only _you_ could have done. And I treated it with the care that it deserved because you _are_ important to me."

He spoke to her as if they were back in 1933 when he held great reverence and care for her. Back then, she was respected, treated as an equal, and perhaps even someone to confide to. Memories of then made her begin to consider his points. He was right in that he hadn't been physical with her. She has been living quite well, well enough to buy things like sugar cookies at least. And, well, if the purpose of the mission was to expose Italy's true intentions, then she supposed that it worked. She couldn't blame him for Italy's actions...

"The problem has always been Italy. He chose pleasure over responsibility." He watched her. "It makes you furious, doesn't it? You could possibly be carrying his child right now but now you're alone. He left you to be a pitiful sight. You're not mad at me. You're trying to come to terms with your emotions that can't be controlled because of your sex."

The pressure within her ribs expanded, the heavy sensation from before further cauterizing to sere into her. All she was was skin and bones, this body bound together like fustian and blood.

"I did not cause you angst. I simply set up a scenario in which to reveal something always there."

The clock ticked.

_And that I deep down always did know._

"Use that anger, Germany," he encouraged invigorated, going from behind the desk to walk toward her in a brisk. "Don't run away from it. It's your natural calling to conquer. You want to destroy the Italians off the continent now that you know their true nature don't you?"

She didn't want to _destroy_ Italy. That was going overboard.

She gave an aggravated sigh out. "Well, I can't do anything if I am out of commission."

"Absolutely not," he swiftly denied. "You are to remain at home and not return to base."

She was stupified. "What? Why? Isn't the mission completed? Italy proved to be a traitor. I need to be in the field now more than ever!"

"Italy was simply option one. You haven't forgotten the whole point of this operation, have you?"

She stood straight while still glaring at him. "No, but if you insist on keeping me at home, the Allied Powers are going to get suspicious."

He appeared to be listening.

"Think about it, _Mein Führer_ ," she began, "Abandoning the battlefield is a sign of weakness, is it not? Do you want the Allied Powers to believe Germany is as cowardly as Italy for going missing and letting Prussia do all the work?" She leaned forward. "In fact, it might be even _more_ cowardly than Italy. At least he showed his face. In the eyes of the Allies, Germany is a weak, ashamed country in hiding. And how repulsive is that?"

She knew she hit a flaw in his thinking as he processed her line of thinking.

She folded her hands back, militant and orderly as her feet naturally aligned to a perfect stance. "The more time that passes, the weaker the _Reich_ appears."

"So what is it that you propose?"

She faced him. "Grant me my position back into the military."

"Are the pregnancy hormones actually settling in?" Hitler asked, actually becoming very happy with her moodiness. "Is that where you're getting such strange ideas?" Whatever seriousness that had surrounded her immediately vanished as she was quickly labeled as a raging pregnant woman in the mind of her boss.

"NO!" she screamed.

Hitler's demeanor soured. "So you didn't follow my orders?"

"Italy has declared war on me! How am I supposed to become pregnant with our enemy's child? What is wrong with you?"

"Are you deaf and dumb? I said Italy was only one option. The moment you saw him as unfit, you should have disregarded him," he lectured loudly, irate, now suddenly adding something new to the order that hadn't been there before.

A vein almost pulsed out of her forehead. "Then how would have your test played out if I had disregarded him?"

Her insistence to poke at the flaws of his plans removed whatever semblance of composure he had left. Overdue stress combined with her defiant stubbornness made for an explosion waiting to happen.

He slammed his hand down against the pile of documents he had on the table. "This wouldn't have been a problem if you had done this earlier instead of frolicking around in the field with your Jew-lover of a brother!" She couldn't hide her contempt when he spoke like this. Prussia's history of granting Jewish emancipation was not the cause of this problem. But sadly, her face of disgust wasn't enough to deter him from his already asinine ranting.

"I knew allowing a woman in the military was a mistake." He pointed a finger at her, a crazed glint in his composure. "You endangered the _Reich_. _You_. It was _you_ and your stupid feminism that endangered everyone's mind. If you had stayed in your place, we wouldn't be like this right now."

Germany backed away slightly on the edge of his mental state.

"You dropped birth rates. Your celibacy ruined everything. Incompetent at battle, dumb in orders, and now lacking in the most basic functions of a woman — what good are you? Could I have been more cursed to have such a useless woman of a nation? This is the Fatherland!"

Germany was speechless. One moment nothing was her fault and the next everything was.

 _Did I really ruin everything? Did my misunderstanding endanger everyone?_ Her thoughts fed off one another. _Is_ _this my fault?_

He threw his arms up, the pen that he had in his hand dropping harshly to the table as he let go of it. "And then you come in here and make a scene. I don't care that he left! No one does!" He tapped his finger on the table. "It's, in fact, good that he left! Now you don't have to have any of his filthy, cowardly genetics inside of you! Imagine if you had actually gotten pregnant by him?"

She was absolutely repulsed by his statements. He was getting worse and worse with every passing minute.

" _Führer_ , what are your plans with this child?"

"Plans?"

She tightened her jaw. "Yes. What are your plans? If I were to give you a son right now, what do you want me to do with him? He won't have a father. As his mother, I will outlive him. He won't be able to join the military until he is at least eighteen."

"He will become a soldier, of course."

Her gaze was hard. "You do realize that even if I were to give you a son, there is no guarantee he will have special abilities, correct? A child born through conventional means will only result in normalcy or defects. There is nothing that ensures adequacy let alone greatness."

Hitler thought about it for a moment. And for a second, she thought she had _finally_ drilled some reason into him.

"How is it that your kind is born?"

"We are not sure, _Mein Führer._ It is a mystery. We do not have mothers or fathers. We simply come into existence."

"You come into existence when there is the possibility of a new nation, do you not?"

She didn't have a good feeling about this. "Yes. Even a micronation has a representative associated with it."

He suddenly had a gleam in his eye. "I know what to do then."

"What is that?"

"The answer is simple. I will make a new nation!"

She actually facepalmed. She couldn't hold it back. Her hand slid down her forehead and nose, her eyes looking up. "With all due respect, _Mein Führer_ , but did you not listen to what I said?"

"I did." He pointed up, back straight, and knees locked to walk across stiffly to the sepia-toned map of Europe hanging across his wall. Pins and notes and the like littered the large, wide map where he had already conquered and planned to expand. Her eyes grazed across the map and found red pins stacked in the northern border of Italy.

Her boss's eyes stared. He then pointed to a city in Vichy France.

"Here. This is where you will give birth to your son. Through an official union between you and France, it will guarantee you to become pregnant." He smiled, grinned, finally something going his way at the genius he believed himself to be.

"Yes! This is perfect! This is who you will go to next."

_He's actually gone insane._

She crossed her arms. "No. There's already a representative for that puppet country. That is Vichy France as I'm sure you're aware."

"There is?" he asked sharply.

She had to hold back her tone. "Yes. Yes, there is." Her annoyance was still palpable. "And did you see me pregnant then?"

He looked her up and down. His gaze over her body made her want to rip off her skin, at everything that made the male gaze linger, because even in the men's uniform, there was something to stare at.

"One can never be too sure. You can always be lying."

"Well, I am not," she answered, a twitch by her fingers to reach for her gun, to clench her hand into a fist to hear a facial bone crack almost done, but she forced herself to keep them neutral. "The nation is a baby but it was not through me."

There was a moment of silence, his brain taking in this new information as if flabbergasted. "Are you telling me that there is currently a baby nation roaming around without supervision?"

"No. Vichy France's government is taking care of him."

He stared at her. "Is it a boy?"

"Yes."

"Why are you not taking care of him, then?!" he spluttered, getting red in the face.

" _Excuse me_?" She peered down at him with the age she truly was, the disparity of their beings weighing the room down as a heaviness settled across them. It was oppressive and it was affronted, something dangerous brewing the more she stared him down. "Do not forget what I am. I am Germany, Adolf."

And _oh_ how he hated to be addressed as such. If he was red before, now he was _boiling_ by her insubordination.

"You will address me as _Führer!"_ he exploded tapping down on the table as if he wanted to bang it apart just to hear it echo. "Nothing else!

"Without me _Führer_ , there would be no Vichy France to take control of," she replied coolly. "Do not tell me where my priorities should lie when I was the one to give you that map."

He was confronted by her attitude. "Just who do you think you're speaking to?!"

"If I were to have taken care of Vichy France as you fantasize, there would have been no invasion over Denmark, Poland, Austria, Norway, Czechoslovakia _—_ need I list them all? Who do you think marched over there and beat them?"

"Do you doubt my military command?" he threatened. "Are you questioning my ability to lead?"

"No." She came face to face with him. "But it would do you well to remember what I am."

"You have a lot of nerve for a woman," he growled.

"I do, don't I?"

"Someone should domesticate you."

Her eyes burned with fury. The mantra of _he's my boss_ drilled in her head to ensure she didn't lash out in a way that would surely jeopardize her.

"You're making a mistake. Every day that passes with your delusions is another step closer for the Allies."

"I know what I'm doing! Just do what you're told!" he yelled.

She stared at him heavily, her gaze disapproving and resentful. "Is that really what you wish?"

"Yes! You want to be treated as a soldier, then just follow orders! Even a stupid woman like you can understand something as simple as that. You did it before!" he ranted.

Something struck her. _Has he always seen me as a dumb pawn? Did he think that because I'm a woman, I would follow his every move without question?_ Her eyes widened. _That I was afraid of him?_

Her stance tightened. Her mind was clouded with anger, and she was jumping to conclusions she shouldn't.

_I can't kill him. Nations don't murder their bosses._

A voice in the back smiled. _But who says I can't? He can't kill me. But I can kill him. Humans try to control what they don't understand because they are scared._ She glanced up through her eyelashes. _He, deep down, is scared of me._

_Maybe I should give him a reason to be scared._

She dispelled those thoughts. As much as she hated him, she couldn't assassinate him. It was against the unspoken code of ethics among the nations. They did not murder their government members. They couldn't bite the hand that fed them, no matter how rotten the food was.

"I understand," she relented to soothe the tension between them. She couldn't get too much on his bad side or else he would have no hesitation doing more gruesome things to her.

"Swear it," he barked.

Through a heavy arm, she saluted the way he wanted. Repeating the words made her sick to the gut.

"Good," he calmed down once she wasn't threatening his authority anymore. "Good." He pivoted to the side to look down at her. "If you're so eager to be put to use, then I will give you something to do. Locate Vichy France and retrieve him. Take it as practice for when you bear your son."

Her tongue curled back. She did have a soft spot for children, but she didn't have time to be a babysitter right now. They were in the most critical part of the war, and he was worried about _this_ of all things.

"And if he is weak?" Germany couldn't help but ask when told such a vague statement.

"Discard him and try again. Someone of your degree has no use for something like that."

He dangled something in front of her for a moment, a medal gilded in bronze and silver reflected in dullness from the low lamp.

"If you're good, you might even get a reward," he taunted. She recognized that cross. He placed it into her hand before she had a choice. She looked down.

Her teeth clenched, her voice silent in the fury she had buried within her bones.

 _Cross of Honor of the German Mother._ It gleamed. It was pretty.

_How disgusting._

"You want to be a dog to the military don't you?" _Aren't you nothing but a dumb bitch?_

Her voice was hollow. " _Mein Führer,_ what do you hope to gain from me birthing a child as opposed to using me as a soldier? How does me having a baby prove more beneficial than combatting the nations?"

He scowled annoyed. "Did I not already explain it? Once you have a baby, fertility will increase. The _Reich_ needs children. Your child will bless this land with more Aryan girls and boys. Do not be selfish, Germany. Think about your people, your children. Do you want them to grow up among the _Jews_?"

"The war has taken a toll on our population, yes, which is why we must start immediately rebuilding to be stronger than before. With your genetics, you will give birth to superior children and bring happiness to all lonely mothers. You will find great joy in motherhood if you allow it to. _Kinder, Küche, Kirche_." He made gestures.

"I have been very accommodating! Most women would die to have your position! I give you paid time off, food and shelter, and one of the highest positions of status a woman could ask for. All I ask for in return is a child. It is not an unreasonable request. It should be quite easy in fact." He shook his head. "I could have locked you up and thrown you into a camp and had you brutally raped. There was nothing stopping me from sending you away to somewhere no one would ever find you." His tone lowered in fake geniality. "But I haven't because I am not a savage. I have been very generous. All I ask is for you to follow my orders." He looked at her disappointed. "I've been waiting for a little gratitude."

A cold shiver passed. _He's right. I could have had it much worse. I could have been raped._ She swallowed. _If I'm not careful, he might allow one of his men to do it anyway. I'm being protected by him as well with this order. No one has touched me except Italy. I even had the luxury of going on a date with him. Perhaps I am being bratty…_

The more she ruminated his point, the easier guilt came over her actions. When he put it in perspective again, she was acting ungrateful, wasn't she? The war has been hard on everyone, and yet she was complaining about not doing anything all day after sleeping on a nice warm bed with a belly full of food. That was more than what she could say for half of her population who was constantly hungry and fearful. She was very privileged. As a soldier, it didn't matter what her feelings were.

"I see," she said quieter. "You are planning this as a long term goal."

" _Finally_ you understand," he replied exasperated by her slowness. "An empire cannot be made thinking about short term goals." His gaze went back to their map. "It's about the bigger picture. It's always about the bigger picture." He clasped his hands together, still frowning.

"If you finally understand, then I will dismiss this act of insolence due to your hysteria. Italy's betrayal no doubt made you emotional which I will overlook _this once._ I will not tolerate such acts again, do I make myself clear?"

She squared her chin and saluted. "Yes, _Mein Führer_. Understood."

He shooed her away. "Now go. You've put me in an awful mood, and I don't want to see your face anymore."

His words hurt, but she left. She clenched her jaw to not let it show and walked away as she would have any meeting.

_Prussia, what would you have done?_

* * *

Italy sat in front of his brother. It was quiet between them.

"Germany hates you now, doesn't she," Romano broke the air between them.

Italy continued to look out the window. The sky was gray again today.

"Do you see what I mean? She doesn't want us to have free thought. She wants us to watch the world burn with her."

Italy continued to look out the window. Germany did hate him. But was it really because of that?

"It's for the best," he heard Romano say.

Italy didn't say anything. All he could think about were those rageful blue eyes.

* * *

_" — You don't realize how valuable happiness is until it's taken away —"_

_" — You're not a human woman. You're Germany —"_

_" — You want to be a dog to the military, don't you —"_

_" — You're always looking out for me. I really like that about you —"_

_"— I'll be back, don't worry —"_

_" — Anything for the victory —"_

_" — Alouisa —"_

_" — a very strong yet stunning nation. So let me treat you the way you deserve to be treated —"_

_" — I like seeing you smile. You have a beautiful smile_ —"

_" — That's quite a promise —"_

_"— I've been waiting for a little gratitude —"_

"— _so if I were to do this, it would mean nothing —"_

_" — and one I hold myself to live up to —"_

" — _You make such cute noises, Germany —"_

_" — Someone should domesticate you —"_

_" — It's been over since July —"_

_"Bye, Germany."_

* * *

He walked through the darkness with aching feet. There had been some kind of miscommunication at the train station over his documentation which had delayed his trip by five hours, and he yawned wanting nothing more than to crash into bed.

His boots made it up the stairs of the house, and he reached into his pocket lazily to search for the old, bronze keys as a cold breeze passed by. He opened the door carefully not wanting to wake anyone up but among the darkness, he heard something that made his hand reach for his gun. He shut the door quietly and upholstered the pistol from his military uniform, his senses hyperaware to no longer see the house as something familiar.

He followed the sound silently, his steps swift. The closer he got, the more prominent it became.

She was crying.

His pace quickened, her the sound coming from the bedroom upstairs, and fear gripped onto his heart. She never cried.

He ripped the door open to see what could be wrong, and through the beam of moonlight, he saw her.

Her eyes widened, those large blue eyes in so much pain to be reflected by tears rolling down her cheeks in a shimmer among the bright moonlight. She was basked in subtle white light from the slants it created through the closed blinds. She sat on the bed curled up with her arms crossed over her bent knees. She had hidden her face before he had entered, and at that moment that they met gazes, her eyes rimmed with more tears.

She tilted her head down to not let it show. "Ah, welcome back, Gilbert."

* * *

"West, what's wrong?" Prussia asked immediately concerned over her. This was not the welcome home he had expected. He had wanted to surprise her tomorrow morning so that she could revel in his awesome presence all day and week.

"Nothing," she sniffed, still replaying all of the lies Italy had told her. It burned her throat raw to know how much of a fool she had been, how fickle her heart had become. She couldn't believe she allowed a weak, feeble nation like Italy to enamor her. She should have known better. He had left once before. Always running away in battle, always looking for the easy way out — why was she so shocked?

Sex didn't mean love. She wasn't even his first. It was all for the order, and she had placed more into it than he had. She had even given him her human name! She had no reason to do so, he hadn't been planning to, and she was just so stupid. All she was stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, exactly what her boss wanted. She spread her legs! She did it! She was finally a woman!

She buried her head into her knees about to sob again.

Here she was crying over him because when she slept, she saw him in her dreams. She felt him, she heard him, and he had been so warm. His voice had hushed her to stop worrying, what he had said wasn't true, and that, of course, he would never leave her. He had enveloped her with the comfort of his laugh, his smile, his chest behind her as if he wanted her to dance like he always did when music came on, and he had felt so real. His scent had been the same, and his touch had been the same, warm, tender, and real, so _real._ His warmth couldn't be replicated, the size of his palm caressing her to smile into the curve of her back, and as that night, it had been on this bed. He would be on the left, her on the right, and their legs had been intertwined with beating hearts.

But the reality was cruel. She woke up cold without his arms around her, his voice nothing but a hollow echo of her own mind, a memory, and there was nothing she could do but angrily sob into her palm at the lachrymosity simpering within her chest. She was pathetic. She just couldn't take the hint.

But she couldn't explain any of this to Prussia. Her virtue was gone. Her sensibility was gone.

"It's really nothing," she quivered trying not to choke up when speaking from her tears. She hated talking when crying because it reminded her of being a child again that stuttered and gasped. There was nothing more shameful than to be caught crying, and she didn't want Prussia to see her like this.

Prussia turned on the light from the lamp on her bedside, and it hurt her eyes slightly in adjustment. He could see everything about her, and the empty beer bottles and tissues littering around her bed frame wasn't exactly _it's_ _really nothing._

She wasn't drunk, Germany's tolerance making it nearly impossible to unless drinking hard liquor, but it surely didn't stop her from trying. Prussia pushed the empty bottle with his foot and it rolled underneath her bed as the seventh one he counted on the floor.

"This doesn't seem like nothing," he remarked smelling the alcohol on her clothes.

"Why are you here? I thought you were out on the Eastern front," she avoided.

"I heard you were house-bound for a while. I wanted to check up on ya. It doesn't seem like things are okay."

She sniffed, still not looking at him. She felt his weight dip into the side of the mattress from where he sat, and then his hand was on her shoulder. She hasn't talked to anybody in four days, her voice murmuring in empty hallways just to hear someone else talk, and his simple gesture choked her up.

She was lonely without Italy.

"Do you not know why I'm house-bound?"

"No. I just know that they got rid of my vacation and that you're not going to be in battle anymore." He inspected her trying to find something off. "Did you screw yourself over from an injury or something?"

She shook her head. That would have been a better excuse to be so distraught now wouldn't it?

"No, I'm physically fine. I can't believe they didn't give you the full report." She wiped the tears out of her eyes and sniffed. Redness blotched across her cheeks and nose, the rims of her eyes rubicund and puffy.

She hiccuped. "I've been let go. I'm no longer part of the military."

His eyes widened. "What? What the hell do you mean you've been let go?"

She rubbed her eyes again to dry them despite how much her jaw ached to keep crying. She didn't want to explain it to him. It hurt to talk.

"I'm no longer on commission. I'm on permanent leave. I gave my insignia to Hitler five weeks ago. I've been officially demoted out of the military."

His face said it all. "What the fuck? Why?"

"Because he's a sexist bastard," she bit out too sad to yell. "You want to know why he blacklisted me out of everything involving the government? Because he wants me to get pregnant."

It was as if she had just dumped cold water all over him. His jaw slacked in shock. "Wait what?!"

"I can't do anything until I give him a son."

He moved closer to her trying to process this. "Wait, so hold up a sec. You're telling me that the reason you're here right now is that you need to squirt out a baby? Like as in getting big and fat to pop out a tiny, little human?"

She made a face. "You don't have to say squirt. I'm not a ketchup bottle."

"Whatever. _Produce_ a baby, if that makes you happier."

She sniffed again, rubbing her nose. "That's correct. He's been pressuring me to have a son to 'set an example as a German woman'. He believes that if I give birth to an Aryan child, fertility rates will increase and that the child born will have exceptional genetics due to my status as a nation. I have a role that I haven't fulfilled."

"You know that's complete utter bullshit, right?" He crossed his arms. "Even if you were somehow to get magically pregnant, it's not like every single woman in the country would suddenly become pregnant too. It doesn't work that way. It's like when you get sick. Just because you have a cold doesn't mean there's suddenly an epidemic."

She gave a tremulous sigh, her chest heavy with the underlying sadness that didn't seem to go away. "I'm aware of that. But he suspects that if I were to become heavy with child, more women would try for a family and become pregnant on their own. He wants me to begin a baby craze. His plan is impossible, however, because I cannot get pregnant, and the state of the country isn't safe enough for women to want a baby."

"So why are you crying?"

 _So why are you crying? That's the real question isn't it,_ she thought sadly. _I don't know why._

"I guess I really am a woman, aren't I?" she asked quietly. "Here I am crying. How weak."

His eyes were concerned. "Hey, what's wrong? Is it about this whole unawesome baby stuff?"

It was everything. It was swallowing the truth that she had been deceived by her boss, the one person she thought would always be straight-forward with her; it was realizing that her boss only saw her body as useful when it came to exposing a man's intentions; it was her boss calling her ungrateful and making her realize she was living in a gilded cage; it was Italy pretending to care about her for these past few months knowing he was going to declare war on her; it was the lack of contact she's had with people for weeks now let alone her brother whom she missed; it was the worry she felt for Japan as he still hasn't answered any of her letters or calls; it was Italy sleeping with her and making her feel special for only to get dropped because she believed his lies; and now it was the pressing worry that if she didn't make up for her outbursts and defiance to her boss, he would do something worse to her.

No one would be able to save her, and she would have brought it on to herself. She didn't want to be a mother, wasn't ready to be one, but nobody cared. And when trapped in a situation like this, what else could she do? No one was going to help her.

"It's nothing," she denied. She wiped at her eyes. "Are you okay? Are you hungry?"

"Forget about me, there's something obviously wrong with you," he said bluntly.

"Do you want something to eat?" she ignored removing the blanket and sliding off the mattress. She slipped into her house slippers. "I still have meat dethawed if you're hungry."

"No, Lou, that doesn't matter right now. I'll eat something later. Why were you crying?" he didn't relent.

"It was a nightmare. You caught me at a bad time."

He became sympathetic. "That bad, huh?"

"I'm fine now. Doing something will help me clear my mind about things. I'm not going to be able to go to bed now." She hadn't been planning on getting sleep tonight anyway. Nothing she did allowed her peace within her own head.

"I'm not really hungry, don't bother getting up,'' he advised, watching her about to step away from the bed to go to the kitchen. She still moved away.

"I'm thirsty. I'm going to get water."

Prussia followed, and she poured two glasses out of a heavy jar finally slowing down on her sniffling. She was still red from her crying session but she wasn't tearing up anymore or having difficulty speaking.

"Was the nightmare about Italy?" Prussia asked. Hearing his name made her want to crawl into bed again. She didn't respond.

"I heard it on the radio. I can't believe he's really gone."

"He's a traitor," she said harshly, gripping onto her glass hard enough to make her fingertips white. "I don't care what the hell happens to him. He can get himself killed if that's what he wants."

Prussia was surprised by her words. He knew she wasn't going to be happy about the turn of events but she didn't get this angry over anyone.

"Did something happen between you and him?" he pieced things together.

"Other than him becoming a traitor, no," she said curtly.

He didn't believe it. "There were a lot of beer bottles on the ground for it to be just a nightmare," he pointed out. "What happened between the two of you when I was gone?"

Her eyes watered. _I got played. I was nothing more than a whore_.

"Nothing significant. I was housing a traitor this whole time and the thought of it disgusts me."

That didn't answer his question. She wouldn't need to get drunk over that unless she had some kind of deep emotional attachment with him. Which, to be fair, he had already suspected. Italy gravitated toward Germany more than he did to him. It's always been that way.

"He…" Prussia didn't know how to bring it up without getting livid. "Didn't do something _weird_ right?"

"Weird?"

Prussia motioned with his hands already angry at the thought, the air between them shifting as he furrowed his brows and spoke tightly. "Touch you. Do something out of line to make me go wring his pathetic balls out and kill him."

She immediately knew what he was alluding to. And she had to instantly cease that thought from Prussia's head because then he would _really_ be out for murder.

"No!" she exclaimed. "Goodness no. Italy didn't force himself onto me," she denied looking at him in the eye. He had to search in her irises to see if she was telling the truth, sexual matters like this always hazy he knew in the unjustified shame it brought.

They stood in front of each other in tense silence, seconds thick and unwavering as they remained in the kitchen with nothing but a black night and fidelity of words.

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"Yes. Nothing like that happened," she stated firmly. Prussia analyzed her once more. He held Germany's word seriously, and so he believed her. But he would still hold his doubts. Italy was the last person he would suspect as a sexual perpetrator, but he also hadn't expected him to quit the war this time around either.

"You just miss him then," he concluded.

"No," she denied. "He was a nuisance to me."

"I'm gonna miss him," Prussia didn't care to hide still trying to probe for information. "You were lucky you got to hang around him so much."

"If you want to consider babysitting lucky."

"..."

"..."

"Hey," she began after a period of silence in which she knew Prussia was waiting for her to begin speaking again, "how does Hungary deal with this?"

Prussia wished he could give her a clearer answer. "I don't know, West. That's something you would have to ask her. Hungary's always been an exception."

 _I used to be an exception too,_ she thought remembering how simple life used to be. _I've never cared so much about my gender until now. I hate being different. I hate this body._

"She used to think she was going to grow a dick," he recalled remembering how innocent they used to be and cackling slightly. "She used to think she was a dude!"

This was news to her. "Really?"

Prussia leaned back into the countertop. "Yeah, really. Everyone used to think she was a guy." His eyes became pensive. "You and her are different in that aspect. You've known you were a girl your whole life."

"Well I suppose back then in a continent full of male nations, it would only be natural to assume she wasn't going to be a woman," she reasoned not finding Hungary's conclusion dumb. "I can't be the only female nation who has had to go through this, right?"

Prussia hated being so unhelpful. "I don't know. I'm not a girl. I would assume not. Our boss is a freaking psycho."

"What should I do?" she asked, feeling lost.

"You're probably not going to tell me everything that's been going on," Prussia knew washing the glass to place it on the drying rack, "but I wouldn't lose all hope yet. Once he realizes how vital you are to the military, I'm sure he'll get desperate and call you back. That's what used to happen to me when the Teutonic Knights would try to barbecue the awesome me."

The thought of Prussia getting burned alive was not what she wanted to imagine, the harrowing sadness of his history pasting into her as she became smaller by the counter.

"Oh."

"It's a good thing!" he said not knowing why she was getting sadder. "Do you really think he can survive without you out there kicking ass?"

She lifted her heel and bounced it slowly. "It doesn't feel like it matters if I'm there or not. My soldiers move on to another commander. England continues to bomb me. Italy still leaves."

"...His betrayal really hurt, didn't it?" he asked more gently. Their eyes were tired, the kitchen light making their sockets deep and aged when they glanced back at each other. Red met blue.

"No," she thickly replied. "It didn't."

Prussia seemed to be toiling over something, Germany continuing to look at the ground with something stuck on her tongue as she mulled Prussia's words and the emotions it brought until a somewhat hesitant voice spoke.

"...Do you, like, need a hug or something?" he asked obviously unaware as to how to treat her now that she wasn't a child.

"No," she by reflex replied. "I don't."

The answer wasn't honest in the slightest, her stomach twisting at the look of hurt crossing over Prussia's face for thinking he could make things better despite not really knowing how. She knew he was trying his best with a situation so unfamiliar to him, and Germany debated going over. She wasn't a little girl anymore; she didn't need to crawl back to big brother Prussia anymore, but the desire for human contact eventually won out when she started walking over. She carefully hugged him, not having touched him in decades in how quickly she grew up, and she forgot how comforting it was to be close to him.

_You won't leave me too, right?_

"It'll be okay, Lou. I know he was your friend, but sometimes, these things happen," he comforted getting through the awkwardness to instead focus on her. "Don't take it too personally. When the war is over, you guys can be friends again." He smiled for her. "Knowing Italy, he'll probably come back around to annoy you anyway. That's never really stopped the guy before."

"It's not that," she said although it was exactly that, "I'm worried about my order. Who will be the father? What will happen to me if I can't do it? What if I give birth to a girl? What would he do then?"

He wasn't sure either. "You have to keep fighting in whatever way you can. You're more than just a baby-making machine. You're my awesome little sister."

"I don't feel so awesome right now," she murmured.

"You are," he confirmed. "You're awesome. You're more than awesome. You're the awesome Prussia's little sister making it therefore impossible to not be _super, super_ awesome too!" He patted her back. "Things will turn up. I know they will." He let go of her to place a hand on the small of her back. "But you can't be awesome if you don't sleep. Let's get you to bed."

She let go reluctantly and knew that was for the best. "Okay. I'll try to go to bed now." Before they left the kitchen, she wiped her eyes and attempted to give him a smile.

"Oh, and thank you."

* * *

"How did you two know it was my birthday?" Germany was shocked by seeing the large cake in the middle of the table.

Italy huffed proud, standing in the middle with his hands on his hips as he smiled and gloated in an apron and flour stains. "That's for us to know and you to not know. Make a wish, Germany!"

She walked forward to the lit candles looking at Japan and Italy. "This isn't necessary you guys..."

Japan disagreed. "Everyone should celebrate their birthday. Italy made this just for you." Japan smiled encouragingly. "Go on. Make a wish."

She looked down at the cake remembering something similar.

_"Kesese, blow the candles already West! Today marks the day your totally awesome brother wiped Francey pant's ass and saved you from that prissy Austrian! Marvel in the glory that is your unification anniversary from yours truly!" He laughed more._

_She peered at the cake with candles, watching the flames with her large eyes._

_"You make a wish," he prompted. "And then you blow on them to make the fire go out."_

_"What do people usually wish for?" she asked innocently._

_"Eh, I don't know. Money. Land. Beer."_

_She didn't care about that. She didn't know what to wish for._

_Prussia's hand met her head, his palm large on her small head. Her long hair moved as she turned to face him._

_"People usually wish for the thing they desire the most. What's something you want the most, West?"_

_She looked at the cake again. She stood on her toes and blew on the candles knowing exactly what she wanted._

_Prussia cheered. "There you go! What did you wish for? New toys?"_

_"I wished for friends," she revealed, getting back on her heels. She looked up at him with a bright smile, hope shining in her blue eyes. "I wish one day everyone stops hating me so I can be like you and have good friends."_

_Prussia was taken aback, something crossing over his eyes that she couldn't decipher. He rubbed her head gently, messing up her hair._

_"That's a good wish. Come on, sit down. I'll get the knife to cut the cake."_

_She clambered to the chair happily. She just knew her wish would come true one day. One day..._

She blew on the candle as urged, the flames going out from where her breath hit. And then there was cheering.

"Yay! That officially makes you…!" Italy didn't know. Nor did Japan.

Germany gathered plates to serve them, her back to them as she stood in front of the cupboard. "Seventy."

There was shocked silence in the room. The festivity from before died, and she turned around to see what was wrong. Had she said something weird?

"Seventy?" Italy mumbled dazedly. "I'm so old. Wow, I feel gross..."

Even Japan was depressed. "I'm older than Italy. Germany's seventy? There are humans older than her."

She blushed gripping onto the plate. She knew she was still incredibly young compared to most nations, but she was still one of them!

"You asked my official age, but I've been around for longer! And why does it matter, anyway? You two still look twenty and won't age beyond that point," she said red.

"It's like two old men hanging around a child," Japan said. "This feels illegal somehow."

Italy moved to Japan's side. "You won't turn me in, will you? I don't want to go to prison again."

Japan's eyes saw the void. "I won't if you don't."

Germany waved the knife at them while looming over them. "Cut it out you two! Age is an arbitrary trait anyway! We're all fighting in this war together so it doesn't matter if you two are seniors!"

"Senior citizens!" Italy cried, hiding his face.

She choked Italy's neck, making him wail for release and help as his face turned blue. "I can't breathe! I'm sorry, I won't remind you of your age again, just let me go! Wah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! You're very old! You're the oldest one here, practically a grandma — please let me go, ve!"

Japan watched worriedly at the exchange. " _Ano_ —"

She let go and turned around. "Good. Now stop worrying about such stupid stuff so we can eat the cake already."

Italy rubbed at his neck. "Ve~" He closed his eyes, forgetting about the ordeal as she said. "What did you wish for?"

Germany slid the knife into the soft bread. "Nothing in particular." She looked to the side blushing slightly.

_I only hope that you two will continue to be my friends. Even when this war is over, I hope we can all still get along. That's my only wish now._

Alouisa woke up to a start, her heart pounding as faint memories of the dream lingered. She placed a hand over her chest to calm herself down, the vividness of the dream gone to leave the emotion of sadness and confusion. She looked out the window and saw daybreak about to peek through. She must have gotten only a couple of hours of sleep.

She rose up from the pillow to sit up. She placed a hand over her forehead trying to forget that memory.

 _I forgot my birthday passed,_ she realized blankly. She knew the dream wasn't her brain reminding her about the birthday she had spent alone. It was the wish. It was the promise. It was Italy —

 _Stop thinking about it! Go away you damn bastard, let me at least sleep!_ she thought, hating that angry tears wanted to spill out.

Her lips tightened. _I miss Japan. I wish he was here right now. I'm sure he would know what to do. I wish Italy was still with me too._

"No, no, stop it. He's a traitor. Stop being stupid."

But her heart could not lie. She missed Italy. Her subconscious was calling out for him, and she wanted to go back to that day in the kitchen. In 1941, things hadn't been this complicated. They had been eating cake and talking around her table because they cared about things like her birthday in times of war. They didn't need to do it (but they had).

She moodily flopped down on the mattress again and shoved her face into the pillow. It was hot and everything turned to black. She wanted to scream.

_How am I going to go to bed now?! I'm too awake! And if I sleep again, I'm scared I'll dream about him again._

She didn't want to whisk away into fantasy because waking up to reality was more painful. She would rather never dream again.

She tried to calm her breathing and return back to her sleepy state.

_It'll be fine. I don't usually dream anyway so this was just a coincidence. I need to sleep. Come on. Go to bed._

She didn't get any more sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer than usual wait for the update. University has been kicking my ass so have a thicc chapter because I love ya'll. If it weren't for the pre-written chapters, this part would have probably taken me another month to publish. Updates from this point are probably going to be slower due to online classes taking up most of my time (I have 4 writing classes this semester so that'll mean I won't have as much energy or time to update like before).
> 
> ALSO, FUCK HITLER DUDE!! I WANTED TO PUNCH MY SCREEN WHILE WRITING HIM. UGH. His bouts of intense rage weren't uncommon, although I'm not sure how accurate this may be to reality. He was an intense drug user with suspected bipolar disorder and paranoia so I don't think the rants would have been tame. All I can say is that Germany kept her head together way better than I would have if that situation had been real. 
> 
> (Oh and for those curious as to why Hitler doesn't like Prussia, I would recommend looking into the Edict of 1812!)
> 
> So thank you for reading! The amount of support this fic has been getting is honestly more than I ever imagined. Your comments really boosted my spirits during this first week of school when I was super stressed and overwhelmed. All of the kudos and reviews make me excited to post and keep writing, so yeah! I really appreciate it. Leave a comment on this chapter to let me know what you guys thought, or maybe where you think it's heading. Kudos are loved as well, and I will see you lovelies in the next one!


	10. And So is the Dread of a Memory

Germany heard the train roll to a stop before she saw it. The blue of the sky was hidden behind gray clouds that moved heavy and weighted. What had been easy to see before was now sheltered in sullen metal.

Such was the beauty of occupied Paris she supposed.

She boarded off the train after twenty minutes of waiting, customs bothersome even if she knew it was necessary, and then she was in the city to do what she pleased. Dressed in an all-black military uniform, no one bothered to cross her way. She walked farther into the heart of the city where people talked and the scent of food macerated with the chatter and wine. It made her stomach tighten. French cuisine never did sit well with her.

Germany craned her neck up to inspect the endless row of windows. Up to those gray clouds, there in glass and limestone was somewhere he called home. A car passed behind her on the street, the sound nipping at her heels from where pavement met the road.

She walked forward to open the double doors. She went up the narrow flights of stairs after passing through the bustling lobby, her heels echoing here on these steep steps until eventually, she made it to a door on the fourth floor. The scent of nicotine permeated around as if it has always been there with the oxygen, the nitrogen, everything else that made air. Perhaps here in the city, things were different. France was a beautiful country, even if most times it seemed like it wanted to burn within.

She knocked.

No response came. She waited. No response came. She knocked again. 

Finally, someone answered. The door slowly opened, and it was just who she wanted to see.

"Good evening, France." She peered into his surprised blue eyes. "I apologize for coming so abruptly unannouncedly. May I enter?"

France snapped out of his daze and opened the door wider.

"Well, come in, come in!" he ushered. He moved to allow her space to walk forward. She took off her boots as a courtesy and followed him into the small living room right by the left of the entrance hallway. The floor groaned as she walked across, Germany scanning everything about his living space.

_A maximalist._

There was dust from the sun that shined through his open windows; long colored rugs, polished oak wood frames, swirling wall print in pastel — soft, old, perhaps modern, she did not know — oil paintings leaning against the wall yet to be hung up, women, they were always paintings of women, ever beautiful next to flowers in glass, paper and books bound by leather and glue stacked and stacked and stacked upon one another on a table. She had to be careful to not bump her hip against the wooden chair on her left placed next to the heavy radio he squeezed into the corner.

How disorderly.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked heading toward the kitchen. To say he was headed there would be too much of an exaggeration as the apartment was only three rooms within itself, the space in between the living room and kitchen only about a few arm's widths away.

"A coffee, please," she requested sitting herself down on the blue fabric couch. "Black."

France hummed to show he was listening. "What brings you here?"

She watched him. "You're in an awfully good mood."

France smiled. "It's a good day, Miss Germany. I didn't expect you to be here, but it certainly is nice. We haven't seen each other in years."

She turned her head toward the open window to see where the people walked below. "You've certainly changed. You used to hate me coming over."

"Hate? Maybe so. But I think I know why you're here."

Germany was pleased to hear that. She didn't have to explain it to him which would make things go quicker. Despite how much France said he didn't dislike her presence, she would rather not be here.

A couple of minutes later, France came out with her coffee. She took it carefully, giving a soft thank you when handed the drink, and set the porcelain cup of coffee down on the table to let it cool. France sat down into the chair in front of her. He opted to smoke instead of preparing himself a coffee as well, and when he lit up his cigarette, he offered her one by pointing the box toward her and thumbing up a white stick.

"No, I'm fine, thank you. I don't smoke."

He put back the box unoffended. "Prussia must be proud." He dragged out his cigarette watching her, his eyes still mirthful as if waiting for something.

"I am not. You smoke with a baby in the house?" she asked disapprovingly.

France seemed surprised. "A baby?"

"Vichy," she stated factually. "You said you are aware as to why I am here. Where is he?"

France seemed genuinely confused. "Oh, is that why you visited?"

"Yes. Why else would I be here?"

France gave his typical smile, a laugh away it seemed like from commenting something else, while inhaling the cigarette again. "So you being here has nothing to do with Italy switching sides?" The pall of nicotine that came afterward made her nostrils burn, her airways tight in how she breathed in constrained, composed. "You've come to the right person! I am more than willing to give you my _advice_ , Miss Germany." He leaned back into the seat. "I know a broken heart when I see one."

Not a muscle moved from her body to make France instantly aware that he was treading on something easily cracked if not careful enough.

"No. Not everything is about your miserable attempt to make it about romance." She crossed her legs, her words clipped. "Is Vichy here with you or not?"

France seemed disappointed. "Yes, he's here. He's asleep. Would you like to see him?"

"Lead me to him."

France got up, Germany doing so as well, the cup of coffee untouched with small wisps of heat still steaming up. France led her through a narrow hall; the paintings hanging on the wall made her feel claustrophobic of the eyes that followed until they reached the very back of the apartment where a door remained shut. France opened the door watching her to see if this was really what she came here for.

Immediately when turning on the light, a small, white crib was seen tucked into the corner. A wooden box of toys was beside the nightstand but not much else was present inside the room painted in light blue. The cramped room was mainly filled with folded clothes and blankets in bundles on the ground, their scent of lavender and baby powder reminiscent of something caring. But by the floor dimensions and lack of windows, Germany guessed that this room was never meant to be a bedroom at all but instead for storage.

"I haven't had the time to set up this room yet. I moved apartments recently," he explained not taking her silence well.

"I see."

She walked toward the crib, France following her in anticipation as to what she would say next. She had never placed too much attention on her puppet state before.

Germany looked down at the blonde infant wrapped up in a thick bundle of white blankets. He slept heavily unaware of her presence, swallowed up almost by the covers close to his slowly rising chest. He was no more than a newborn infant, the size of his body smaller than she had expected.

She didn't let the surprise show on her face.

 _He's still weak. He hasn't changed._ Germany looked down at the little boy expressionless.

_Perhaps this is for the best._

She watched him sleep peacefully.

_You're in danger, little one._

She leaned down to inspect Vichy's features.

 _His face is fine enough._ Her gloved thumb met the warmth of his cheek when inspecting his bone structure, a feverish heat transferring over from cherry-blotched skin to cold leather. _If he wasn't sick, then this stupid order could have been put to rest._

"He isn't going to wake up anytime soon," France told her, going beside her while blowing out a puff of smoke. "He's been asleep for weeks now."

She ripped the cigarette out of his fingers, her movement swift with an even harder glare. "If you're going to smoke, do it outside." She bent the cigarette to almost snap it in half. "Go put that out."

"But he isn't even going to wake up. Why does it matter?" France replied wondering when she had become so particular.

"That isn't the point. _Go_."

France left since she seemed so offended by it, and she heard the door close. Once more, the nicotine sunk into the walls. It lingered. It stained. It suffocated. It was foul.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with him," she told the baby softer. She watched the baby stir, his face tilting on the pillow until eventually sleepy, blue eyes began to blink awake. The infant stared up at her with wide irises, a new face making him curious if she was a friend or foe.

"Hello, Vichy. It's nice to meet you." She held out her finger so he could grasp it, and his small hand quickly grabbed onto her as a reflex. He loosened his apprehension in growing ebullience, and she took her hand away. "I've been wanting to see you for some time."

He smiled to show his excitement, the baby still very much lacking in vocabulary and speech function. France came back in quietly, his surprise not heard by the fact Vichy was awake just by Germany being near him for less than a minute.

"If I hadn't been so busy, I would have visited earlier," she told him kindly, France unaware she could sound like something other than a martinet.

Vichy laughed, the baby's little giggles innocent to the ears.

_His loyalty just switched. His heart is with me right now. Now let's see how true it is._

"Do you want to get out?" she asked. "It must not be fun being in that crib all day." She lowered the blanket to not make him overheat, Germany treating Vichy just as she would her puppy Blackie since that was the easiest way for her to understand this.

Vichy very much agreed and wiggled to move. He didn't cry but was visibly frustrated by the lack of movement.

"Here we go." Germany picked him up carefully and cradled him, the motion of having a baby in her arms foreign.

 _He's lighter than I expected,_ she noticed once bending her elbow to have him supported.

She was afraid she was going to drop him regardless, France's silent observation swirling anxiety in her gut at how inexperienced she was with babies. Her heart quickened in nervousness as she carefully shifted Vichy. She made sure her arms supported his head, _that_ she knew enough, and she got to a position she thought was acceptable enough. It seemed close to what she saw other women do.

Germany walked out while holding the blonde nation, France moving out of her way alert as to what she was going to do with him.

"Wait, where are you going?" he asked hurriedly.

But nothing of danger came when he saw she simply wanted to sit down on the couch again in the living room. She settled herself back into the seat and finally got the hang of holding him, Germany finding it easier to have him against her chest so that it was ensured he didn't go anywhere.

"You seem to care greatly for him," she remarked gauging him. "I thought you despised the arrangement."

The baby made sounds of discomfort trying to grab her attention, his arms reaching out to tap against her. He was ready to cry so that she could play with him instead, and she rocked him gently as a response needing him to be quiet as she talked with France. The motion helped somewhat, but he was still upset.

" _It's okay,"_ she told him in German in a panic hoping he wouldn't start wailing by the way his face twisted up to cry. And when she spoke to him in German, he seemed entranced. There was no more hitting but instead just curiosity.

 _"It's okay,"_ she repeated. _"Don't cry."_

Vichy smiled, his smile turning into a small giggle actually as he placed his hand near his mouth while watching her.

_"Do you understand me?"_

Vichy continued to smile tilting his head amused but did not respond.

_I don't think he knows what I'm saying._

She glanced up at the person sitting across from her.

Germany almost smiled as well.

She knew it pissed France off. There was no greater salt to the wound than seeing her puppet state so easily crave her presence over his despite having kept eye on the little nation for two years now.

 _This could work in my favor,_ she thought bringing the baby up closer.

"Tell me, do you consider him a son?" she prompted.

"Do you suddenly consider yourself a mother?

She almost scowled. "Don't deflect. That has nothing to do with what I said."

"Ah, so you _are_ feeling lonely," France read between the lines. "You didn't need to use Vichy as an excuse if you wanted to visit me. You're always welcome to stay the night, make the bed less cold," he finished flirtatiously.

"Never lonely nor desperate enough to seek your company," came her bland reply, their interactions always like this.

"Not even for tonight? You used to at least pretend to consider it before." He placed a hand on his cheek thinking it over, his legs crossing as he mulled over something. "Or has Big Brother France been replaced by Italy?"

Her eyebrow twitched. "Replaced implies we had something before in which we never did. Do not change the subject and answer my question."

He smiled coy. "That's a secret better said in a bedroom, _non_?"

"It's a simple yes or no answer, France," she ignored.

"I can tell you more than just that." Some of his long hair crossed over his eyes at the angle in which his face rested against his palm. "I'll tell you about Italy and what I know about nationhood if you stay the night. Something very interesting happened the other day that I think you would like to know." He couldn't contain his delight. "The Italy brothers are just so amusing, aren't they? Anyone who makes that black sheep mad is an ally to me!" He laughed at the memory she did not know. And to say she didn't want to know would be a lie.

_If I take him up on his offer, I could gather intelligence. He has information on not only Italy but the rest of the Allies as well. It could help to have an inside source._

"...You're being very generous." Her face got slightly red.

"It's not every day the lovely _M_ _ademoiselle Allemagne_ comes alone to my home. Where is Prussia anyway?" He seemed to be enjoying himself with the smile that came over, Prussia having trouble a treat for him. "Has it gotten so bad that he can't be your chaperone anymore?"

Her mood soured when hearing his insult on her and her brother.

_But it's France._

Her gut churned.

_Everything is always about pleasure with these nations._

"You should be more worried about your immediate guest than Prussia."

"I am worried!" France clearly did not mean it, seeing her get irritated bringing a certain joy. "You're still as beautiful as you were in that ballroom if you must know. My offer from back then and now still stands." He winked at her. "We may be at war, but all's fair for love, right Miss Germany?"

"I am not here to hear your senile babble," Germany replied annoyed that he kept derailing the conversation. "I asked whether you see Vichy as a son or not."

France leaned back into his chair dramatically and rose an arm up to gesture. "Cold and straight to the point as always! I'm making a special offer just for you. It hurts my heart to be so cruelly rejected. I wouldn't do this for Prussia."

"Even so, I am uninterested. And no, I will not be interested in the future," she added on at the end knowing how he was.

"Is that how it is? Fine, I will answer since it seems so important to you." He lost a bit of his earlier airiness when speaking to her in seriousness. "That really is a strange question, though. I don't know why you're suddenly interested but," he watched the peaceful infant remain close to Germany's chest, "in a way I do see him as a son. I should hate him. He shouldn't exist. We're distant because of that but," his face softened, "he's my responsibility. He doesn't know better."

Germany peered down at the baby.

"I see." Vichy started kicking his legs against her, Germany feeling his small feet tap against her while making small noises to once again get her attention, and she looked down to see what could be wrong. He was fussier than she imagined.

 _"What is it?"_ she asked him in German since that was what had calmed him down last time. But it only made him more upset. He started moving more and becoming louder, a wail imminent, and she didn't understand what was wrong with him.

 _"What's wrong? Do you want to go to sleep?"_ she asked completely unaware of what a baby actually wanted.

That wasn't the answer, and what she feared the most became true: he started crying. She recoiled at the shriek near her ear, and the poise she had before vanished when Vichy was so distressed. She rocked him thinking that would help but the motion didn't do anything to stop the crying.

"Why is he crying!" she demanded not knowing what to do.

"You must have done something to make him cry," France replied as if it were obvious.

She blushed getting almost as red as she used to when they first met, Germany the much-whispered _debutante_ of Prussia's pretty new empire.

"Then make it stop!"

France laughed. "He's all yours Germany. You woke him up so put him back to bed now."

Germany hated him.

The crying continued, and she thought quickly of what could have gone wrong in the past minute or so. She furrowed her brows.

 _No, that can't be the answer. But it's worth a shot. If it worked_ _before_...

 _"Vichy, stop crying. It's okay. It's fine now,"_ she told him softly in French. Her French was rougher than Prussia's, an Alsatian dialect that made France wince, but yet with her German accent laced in the smooth consents and lilts of France's language did the baby do something strange.

He stopped crying.

Her gaze lowered.

 _I see. His_ _heart is fixated on him._

France couldn't help but gush at the opportunity to hear her speak his language. "And here I thought you didn't know French! It sounds worse than your brother's, yes, unrefined and German certainly, but you just keep on surprising me." He seemed quite content. "Ah, but even if it does sound ugly when you speak it, it was soft, intimate, and sensual. _Let us speak like this, no? And then maybe take it somewhere else for more one-on-one practice. I know just the way to make it sound smoother,"_ he alluded lewdly, switching over to Parisian French that came naturally.

"I did not do it for you, France," she told him in the universal language exasperated by the way he was looking at her. "I need to ask you something."

France glad to have seen something in Germany no one else has was a little easier to convince.

"And what is that?"

"Are you aware of any instances of legitimate children?" she asked hoping the answer to be no.

France was clearly trying to see where her line of thinking was headed and replied, "As in related by blood?"

She nodded. "Yes. Whether it be with a human or another nation, do you know of any legitimate children born from a nation?"

France thought about it, his hand going to stroke his beard in all the memories that came through his head. "No, not in my lifetime at least. Maybe the ancients had children but I was too young to remember it." He put his hand down. "If you're really eager to know, I would ask China."

She sighed. "No, it's okay. That's all I needed to know. Thank you."

Germany looked down at the baby again with something else now worrying her.

_He's more unstable than I thought. He gets emotionally distressed if you simply talk to him in a different language. His identity is too divided, and it's hurting him. I can't take him back with me. He would surely die then._

"Do you wish to have a child of your own?" he asked, observing the way she interacted with her puppet state.

"I'll have to be going now," she ignored. She rose from her seat; her figure was soon gone as she went back to the small room to place Vichy down in his crib gently. She carefully raised the blanket up to his chin so that he easily fell back asleep. She remained by the side of the crib for a moment longer than she should have.

_Rest well, Vichy. I hope we don't have to see each other again._

Once returning to the living room, France was already standing up.

"You're not bringing him back?"

She approached the door to retrieve her boots. "I just wanted to see how he's been."

"It's good you aren't taking him back," France said behind her.

Germany shifted her head slightly as she finished tying her laces. "And why is that?"

"Paris _will_ be liberated. And when that happens, he'll be gone."

She placed her hat on. He spoke with conviction, of something already here. The cap obscured her eyes as she turned the knob to his door.

"Goodbye, France."

And then she was gone.

* * *

"Hey, dumbass are you dead?"

Italy's head lolled. "No, but I wish I was."

Romano took the beer can away from him.

"Since when did you drink this piss water?" Romano shook the empty can while inspecting the English label. He threw it away disgusted, the sound of aluminum striking against the concrete floor. "That's a new low. If you're going to be drunk at least have the good shit. I could have gotten you some wine."

Italy went back to lying down on the table, his forehead meeting cold metal. "It's all I could find."

Romano crossed his arms. "That French bastard should be back in a couple of days. If you confess already, he'll probably give you something other than gross ass beer."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Romano groaned at the silence. "You're always blabbering away but the _moment_ you need to say something, you go fucking quiet. You wouldn't be here if you just told them what you knew."

"Did they send you here to try and make me talk?"

Romano frowned. "You're fucking pitiful. I sometimes wonder how we're related." His face colored while looking away. "But you're still my dumbass of a brother so."

Italy smiled. "Aw, you do care about me! You wanted to see if I was okay, didn't you?"

"This place is creepy as fuck." Romano shivered looking around the dark cell. "Had to make sure you haven't blown your brains out." He reached into his pocket to search for something. He lit a cigarette with the lighter he dug out of his trousers, the cell further cemented in smoke. He offered one to Veneziano but was declined.

"Trying to suddenly get clean or something?"

_"You know smoking isn't good for you," Germany told him one day in 1939 as they walked through the city square. He pocketed the new pack of cigarettes he had come here to buy. "There's been studies that found a link between smoking and lung cancer."_

_"Really?" he asked, surprised almost about to get his lighter. "Doctors don't say it's bad or anything, though."_

_She placed her hands into her military coat pocket. "There still needs to be more research done, but I would be careful. Something burning in your lungs can never be good."_

_"Is that why you quit?"_

_"Other than the fact that I can't smoke, no that wasn't the reason. I quit after the end of the last war. Your endurance and strength will most likely improve if you do too."_

_"For real?" he asked excitedly. "If I do that will I finally be big and strong and totally cool?!"_

_"It might."_

_"Hehe, I think I will then! We'll be no smoking buddies!"_

_There was a hint of something grateful in her expression, of something perhaps surprised as well, but the wind that passed made her cheeks red anyway and then it was gone._

"That isn't going to make me feel better," Italy lamented not moving a muscle.

Romano walked forward and pushed the metal tray beside Italy forward. "Eat something already. It's that burger asshole's food but at least it's not England's cooking."

"Not hungry."

Another push came.

" _Eat."_

Italy's chin sat in between his crossed arms, his gaze never changing away from the row of iron bars feet away from him.

"I even got you something other than England's food so you wouldn't start crying. You're not starving on my watch so fucking eat. I know it's not pasta but it's better than nothing."

Before Italy could respond, there was a commotion by the entrance.

" _Moi_ has returned!" France proclaimed as a faint echo within the cell. His voice was heard from below, Italy's eyes going up toward the ceiling as if his shift in sight would make him hear the activity above any better.

"And you _won't believe_ who came to visit me!" he further exclaimed.

"What's got him so excited?" Right now at midnight, Romano hadn't expected France to be up and about since he proclaimed being in the "dreadful, English run prison" was bad for his mental health and beautiful face.

"Sounds really important," Italy replied, also wanting to know. "You think it's good news?" he hoped.

"Good news is relative. Now shut up. I think they're talking." Romano listened carefully for what the other Allies were saying and both brothers had to be completely silent to pick up the faint murmur of the conversation happening above them.

"What is it now you bloody frog? Weren't you off to attend _special_ matters?" came England's annoyed voice.

"Hey, good to see ya France! You're back early," America joined in chipperly, wherever England was an inevitable America appearing close by too.

"You Westerners are too loud," China complained having been woken up from his nap. "No respect for your elders."

"Who came to visit you, France?" Russia asked with that same light tone of his.

Both of the brothers could practically hear the hair sashay.

"Of course, you all would like to know. It is _moi._ Why else would she come to me?"

The interest from before instantly died.

"Oh, it's just one of your girlfriends. Lame," America said now bored and walking away.

"A waste of time as always," England followed up uninterested as well.

Russia remained curious, a smile heard through his voice. "Did France get desperate again?"

"This is important! It wasn't just a random human. It was Germany!" France replied annoyed that the others were walking away from him.

_Alouisa?_

Italy's posture became pin-straight. His heart jolted right through the bone of his ribs, an ache begging to jump out the skin. It was trapped in between his ribs and pulse, the footsteps above matching its rushed pace. Romano and Italy's eyes met, hazel against amber in a snap, as they listened to the surprised voices.

"Wow, dude, for real? Germany came out of hiding?" America asked not having expected this of all things.

"That she did. And she came to me with questions," France answered, finally getting the chance to relish in the awe.

"Well, get on with it. What did she say? Why did she come to you? How is she?" England urged. There was quiet until England spoke again, "Where are you going?"

France's voice was getting farther away. "Going down. There are some people missing."

A flood of questions came swarming over him. His breath was stuck in between his tongue and throat, the sense to swallow it away useless when there was already a lump in his esophagus.

"Damn. Germany moves on fast," Romano commented.

Italy hugged himself tighter, the resistance to cry overwhelming every fiber of his body as he reminded himself he couldn't sob anymore, he couldn't be weak anymore.

Romano realized, though, that what he said was insensitive.

"Hey, come on, don't start crying. You don't even know what France is going to say," Romano said not wanting to see his brother this way.

Italy didn't respond. He would rather see the darkness of his crossed arms and be suffocated.

The sound of someone approaching became distinct, a swing of the vault's door alerting the brothers of someone approaching through the hallway. Romano leaned away from the wall to walk toward where the bars were and stake out the audience nearing.

France was the first to show himself. Behind him trailed the Allies conversing theories among themselves about the turn of events still shrouded in mystery.

"Guess who has come to visit you!" France greeted swinging a ring of keys. He stood outside the metal bars with the rest of the Allies behind him as he fiddled to find which key unlocked which cell. There was bickering between England and France to hurry it up already in which France snipped back that he couldn't be rushed and England should have a better-organized system since it wasn't his fault things were confusing and worse _English._

The cell door was opened, and France stepped forward.

"It's a good thing you two are still up. We have some good news for you two!"

Italy's stomach remained sunken to the floor. He didn't say anything as a response. He picked up France's footsteps coming toward him through an echo and felt someone stand over him to his left.

"Italy, why haven't you eaten?" France asked worriedly once beside him. There was a warm hand on his shoulder. "Do you have food poisoning? America doesn't have much better taste, I know."

"Hey!" America's voice cried in the back. "Rude."

"I'm not hungry. It's not the food. I-I'm sure it's delicious," he assured weakly lifting his head.

France was still concerned. He felt Italy's cheeks for a fever. He flipped his palm back and forth still not fully convinced.

"You aren't feverish. You need to eat, _mon chéri._ You haven't had anything since you got here."

"Yeah, dude. Right now isn't the time to be picky." American gave him a bright thumbs up. "That stuff was made in the US of A! It's hero approved."

Italy tried to smile. He knew America was trying to cheer him up but he would rather be left alone.

"We aren't here to question Italy's eating habits," England reeled the conversation back to its focus.

"Then _why_ are you guys here?" Romano asked, not liking that everyone was crowded around this cell all at once. It made him feel claustrophobic.

"I'm glad you asked!" France replied, still keeping an eye on Italy. "There's been an interesting turn of events. Germany came out of hiding to visit my house today in Paris. She hasn't spoken to me personally in years so it was quite a shock. Not an unpleasant one, of course."

Italy's curl dropped down. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear it.

_"Anything for the victory."_

That was what they had promised. So why did it make him want to vomit? If any of the Allies forced him to eat, he didn't think he could physically stomach any of it.

"Woopdee fucking doo," Romano replied since Italy wouldn't. "She's your neighbor."

France rose a finger up smiling. "Ah, but here is the thing! She came for a specific reason — one only I could do."

"Will you quit it with your bloody theatrics and tell us what she came to you for already," England said impatiently.

"Yes, I would like to know too," Russia agreed smiling.

"Everyone here is such a bore," France said disappointed. "She came to me in question of Vichy. She wanted to check up on him personally for the first time in years."

_Wait, so she didn't go to him for..._

"Vichy?" England asked just as surprised as everyone else. "Isn't he just a baby that sleeps all day?"

"That was until she came. She was able to wake him up," France relayed. "It wasn't for very long but her coming over roused him out of his sleep."

"That's cool, I guess?" America asked not seeing the big deal.

"That has nothing to do with us, baguette fucker," Romano replied in the corner wanting them to go away already. "Why are you actually here."

"Maybe Germany already knows," Russia said, placing his hands behind his back.

China was alerted. "You think she knows about the operation?"

Russia smiled. "I don't know. It seems kind of weird she decided to come over once we started talking about plans for Paris in Tehran."

"I don't think she does," France replied, recalling the conversation. "She was more concerned with paternal legitimacy than anything else." France remembered something. "Oh, since you're here China, I have something to ask you. Do you know if it's possible for a nation to have children?"

China was confused. "As in giving birth to one?"

"Yes, yes, as a human can."

"Ah I see," China said getting happy. "Since I'm the oldest and most respected, you naturally came to me," he said proudly to answer. He held his head up. "Yes, it's possible. If I remember right, Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt gave birth. Neither one wanted to say who the father was, though. Hasn't happened since then, so it might not be possible anymore." China looked at him freaked out. "Why do you want to know?"

France didn't appreciate the judgmental expression on China's face. "It's not for me! It was something Germany asked!"

There was too much noise. It was too much. They were talking too much. Why couldn't they go away? He wanted the world to go away. On an axis stuck, he spun round and round to the same useless emotions. Go away. Go away. Go away. But ah, this was the center he wanted, was it not?

"So what does this mean?" England asked not sure what to make of this information. "She came to you to see Vichy, woke him up, asked about children, and then left?"

"Strange, isn't it?" France agreed. "I didn't take her to be the social type." France remembered what happened earlier in the day and gave that little laugh of his. "I think she missed me. She came alone to my apartment in Paris without Prussia." His face was not thinking about innocent thoughts. "She's gotten fuller. Life has been treating her well. _Very well."_

France felt something ominous from behind him, a sudden shiver that overcame in the dreary cell, and he turned around. Italy was watching him wordlessly without backing away from his gaze. France turned back around passing it off as a strange draft that came through.

"Haha, France you're wild! Was she trying to make a secret deal or something?" America asked unaware of the shift in mood.

"She did almost consider it for a moment," he relayed.

_"Yes, France. He's older than you, right? He might know—"_

There was talk but all of it was a haze to Italy. His pulse drummed through his ears. In and out. In and out. That was how the ribcage moved to his diaphragm to get the air out, the heat of his breath meeting his arm as he sat.

"You don't have to lie," England replied with a frown. "We all know Germany wouldn't do that."

"Jealousy makes you uglier than normal, _mon lapin_ ," France cooed. France smiled at the redness that overcame England's face. "Just because it doesn't happen to _you_ doesn't mean it's impossible, _Angleterre_."

England spluttered already ready to punch him. "Shut it you bloody frog!"

France kept egging him on having joy in annoying England, and the rest of the Allies let them quarrel. There was shouting, kicking, cursing, and general chaos as America laughed and the others watched the two go.

"This is fun," Russia remarked, happy to be around so many lively people.

"Immature," China said, walking over to Italy and offering him food since clearly Italy had taste and wanted something from his country.

France tore away from England straightening himself out. "That isn't what I came down here for! I need to ask the Italy brothers something, you ugly black sheep!"

France directed the conversation back to the two after swatting away England. "Romano, Italy, you two were close with Germany, right? Do you know why she's asking about that?"

Romano took a bite out of the dumpling China had given him, and he chewed giving France the same distrustful look he gave everyone. "Yeah, what about it?"

Italy's heart sunk. The hold on his arms tightened, his fingers trembling as he kept quiet. Romano glanced at him quickly, his gaze going back to the group that seemed eager to hear new information.

"Well tell us," England demanded.

"Yeah, dude, that seems hella sus," America agreed.

Russia gave an eerie smile. "Isn't it so much better now that we're all friends? Now there's no more secret!"

China tried to seem disinterested but he was the noisiest one out of them all. The Allies ganged up around Romano unintentionally, the small crowd backing Romano into a literal corner as his back met cold concrete. They walked closer, the gap of feet shrinking with every step they took.

Romano flailed his arm back and forth, waving them all off with his dumpling as a mad man scared. "Will you shit stains back off already! What are you trying to do, huh?! It smells like bologna, _Chigi!"_

"Bologna?" America asked, backing away and sniffing his collar. "It's not me!" Everyone else backed away too, a semi larger radius distance created around Romano.

Romano kept his arm out as if the dumpling he held with shaking hands was of any threat. He waved it again to keep them where they were.

"It is you. So stay there! That's a good distance."

"Dude, I do _not_ smell like bologna!" America cried. He turned to England. "Do I smell like bologna? Be honest."

"Forget about that you twit," England snapped. "What's more important: your poor hygiene or Germany's secret mission?"

"Well _duh. Me —"_

"I don't know much about it," Romano cut off seeing Russia smiling wider as if to reach for something. This brought the group's attention back to him. He swallowed. "I-It was classified information even for us."

"What? For real?" America was disappointed.

"It's not like they told us much anyway," Romano defended. "All I know is Germany has a mission that she's hell-bent on doing."

"Dude, that sounds ominous," America replied. "What could be so important she can't even be in battle anymore? Crazy human experimentation? Is she making, like, a superhero or something?" America seemed way more eager than he should be.

"Are you sure you don't know anything else?" England asked not to threaten but to simply ask. Romano was more scared of England than he was America and thus came the inevitable shaking of hands and panic.

"I'm sure you bastard!" he waved around again. "Germany's probably just going through a fucking phase or something!"

"I thought that too," France replied, stroking his beard in thought. "But she was as cold as ever. Perhaps even more so now." France hummed in thought, his blue eyes gazing over at Italy.

"And I'm guessing you don't know anything about it either?"

He shook his head no.

"Hm. What a mystery indeed!" France exclaimed riveted by the love drama unfolding right before his eyes.

"I'm going back to sleep. Wake me up once you have something useful," China walked off yawning and rubbing at his eyes.

"What should we do now?" Russia asked studying Italy with those large violet eyes.

"Well, we know she isn't MIA or dead like we once assumed before," England replied also wanting to get some sleep. He rubbed at his eyes tired from being up for twenty-four hours. "So that's a start. We'll have to start investigating what this mission of hers is and stop it."

Russia stayed in place still looking at Italy. He tilted his head.

"Do you really not know what's going on?"

Italy realized Russia was talking to him. "No, I really don't!" he trembled terrified.

Russia hummed and walked away. "Germany is mean to all her allies. I thought even you would know. That's sad." Russia smiled as he walked away. "Goodnight, Italy. Make sure to eat something or else you'll starve and die."

"Russia is right, lad. You should eat," England said, worried about Italy's health. He has been refusing food for days now.

"Don't worry, I will," he assured, knowing that wouldn't be the case. He held onto his stomach. "I'm getting really hungry."

"That's good to know. Eat up, little dude!" America said enthusiastically.

"If you want to leave, you know you can," England reminded. "All you have to do is just tell us what you know already."

"And," Romano butted in. "He's been fucking telling you he doesn't have anything to say. How long are you going to keep him in your weird torture chamber eyebrows?"

England's brow coincidentally twitched at the description. It was just an empty prison cell.

"Until he decides to tell us the truth. If he wants to continue being loyal to Germany, then that's fine. He can stay here for the rest of the war."

The rest of the war? Years? The last time he had been in a cell was when he had been caught by Germany in 1915. But even then, she had been…

England walked away not saying anything more.

America followed him out. "Are you really going to keep him in there? He says he doesn't know."

"And he could very well be, oh I don't know, _lying."_

America pushed up his glasses. "I don't know man. He seems pretty honest to me. Italy wouldn't lie to us. They came _wanting_ to join us remember?"

England looked back unsure. "Romano, yes. But Veneziano."

America laughed walking down the hall. "You've been reading too many mystery novels. I know the Italy bros. They can't lie to save a life. You're worried about nothing." He placed his hands into his bomber jacket, his voice light. "We'll just look into it and see what's up if they're lying. It's not that big of a deal."

Eventually, the two were out of earshot. France watched Italy and sighed.

He placed a hand on Italy's head, and Italy looked up crestfallen.

"It's going to be okay," France comforted. "England's bark is tougher than his bite. You'll most likely be put on house arrest soon."

"Most likely?" Romano asked not liking those odds.

France pet Italy's head, taking special notice of his curl. "If he confesses soon, I can convince that stubborn black sheep to at least do that."

"But I really don't know," Italy said quietly. There was a piteous glance from France.

"What you think and what you say don't always coincide. It's just a matter of truth, _Italie."_

 _But that doesn't mean I want to say it,_ Italy thought wanting to feel something other than the frigid verity of what he had done, of what he had to do.

"If this is the way Germany and Japan are going to be for the rest of the war, then it will be over soon anyway." France gave him a small smile. "But you never know. _L'amoure_ can do strange things."

France's hand left and soon it was the two brothers alone again.

"..."

"..."

"...Germany isn't coming back. I don't want to say I told you so but. I told you so," Romano said.

"I know," came Italy's hoarse reply. "I know, _Fratello."_

"If you know, then get the hell out of here already." It wasn't as harsh as other times, sympathy easier when it was just them. "You heard them. She isn't saving you this time. She's moved on, and you have to do the same." He walked toward the cell door knowing France hadn't locked it on his way up.

"Lovino, why did you…?" he couldn't help but ask quietly.

"Silence is one of the worst lies, Feliciano. That's the shit that will get you killed. So just say something, you dumbass." He looked and pointed at him threateningly. "That plate better be wiped clean by the time I come back! If you have enough time to drink beer, you can fucking eat. I'll be back soon because I know you're a crybaby about always being alone and shit."

And then Romano was gone in that same grumpy manner he always had when he said something sentimental. Italy saw the slant of moonlight shone through the cell's small window having much to think about now.

_When you have something to say, silence is the worst lie._

— _what do you mean it's been over since July? —_

His throat tightened.

— _he seems pretty honest to me —_

Yes, he supposed it was.

* * *

Germany heard Prussia come home through a door slam. She rose from her desk where she was rereading the morning news and rushed downstairs.

She quickly made it toward him where he sat, the cold air from the outside making the entrance chilly as he remained on the front step angrily taking off his shoes. "How did it go?"

"Like shit," he replied annoyed that he couldn't shake off his boots. They finally fell to the ground with a thud after some harsh tugs, and he got up.

"If I'm in prison anytime soon, it's because I'm murdering him myself."

She winced. "That bad?"

Prussia took off his coat and hung it up on a wooden hook pissed off. "That unawesome pussy couldn't handle the slightest bit of criticism and so now I'm being deployed to Greece tomorrow morning."

Her eyes widened. "Tomorrow? But you just got here!"

"I know!" Prussia replied even more unhappy about it than her. "It's bullshit but no more vacations, remember?"

"So not even you could talk some sense into him," she remarked disheartened not knowing why she had been expecting anything different.

"No, especially not after your report about Vichy." He gave her a look. "You never told me how that went either."

She shifted. She hadn't thought it was important. And well, when he was in a bad mood, she didn't actually want to talk about it.

But he continued on still thinking about the meeting.

"Honestly, you're better off being in a convent at this point," Gilbert griped. He headed toward the kitchen for a beer.

She followed him inside the kitchen. He let his answer settle as he took a drink. He tilted his head toward her.

"It's never too late to convert, actually. I'll be awesome enough to lend you my robes." He grinned. "Aw, I can already see it. Little West as a cute nun with anger problems and alcoholics anonymous meetings." He clasped his hands together to signal prayer. "Sister Alouisa, won't you have pity on a poor soul like me? Sister Alouisa. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"I don't think devoting myself to the church is the answer," she replied red at his image of her being a pure and chaste woman. She was um...not that anymore.

Prussia tilted back in his chair, the amount of faith he had in those hind legs making Germany nervous he would fall.

"And that's why it's the biggest fuck you ever. Become a Catholic. He'll lose his mind then." He cackled. "No wonder he hates me!"

"..."

"Heh, honestly, it's not a bad plan," Prussia said actually starting to consider how genius it was. "Actually, it's an _awesome_ idea! If you became pregnant, not even Hitler could escape the Vatican's wrath. You would also be able to do something other than just sitting here all day. Give back to the community and all that." Prussia set back to the chair to the ground making her less worried now. "But more importantly, gather intel. No one suspects a nun."

"That's a wonderful idea."

Prussia cackled some more. "Obviously. The awesome me made it up!"

"I was being sarcastic."

"You gotta do something, West!" Prussia denied. "For Hell's sake, join the Resistance for all I care. You have no idea what crazy plans he has after this so might as well just, you know, become an anarchist. You were all about that like fifty years ago, right?"

"I only read books about it," she corrected. "But the Resistance? Are you _trying_ to get me killed?"

Prussia crossed his arms. "I'm telling you, he's lost it." He made a motion by his head with his finger. "Cuckoo for cocoa puffs, I'm telling you! He's not letting this order go so might as well do something."

He looked around the spotless house. It smelled of lemongrass.

"You don't have any other shit to do anyway."

"Yes, I do," she denied not wanting to admit he was right. "I have been quite busy."

Prussia rose a brow. "Yeah? What is that? Going to the grocery store and coming back?"

"More like getting thrown out of government facilities and being blacklisted."

Prussia's eyebrows shot up. " _What_?"

She looked at him slightly perplexed. "Did you not know?"

"No, West, that's news to me! You're on a blacklist?"

She shifted. "I have been for a while."

Prussia would laugh if it weren't so awful. "Lou, there is almost nothing to lose at this point. It's like he's just asking for it or something."

"...Has a nation ever done that? Is that really okay?"

Such disloyalty didn't sit right with her. The thought of betraying her entire government and military was unsettling. She knew there were good people in her country. She would feel disgraceful if she were to suddenly become a defector because she did want to win the war. That was what her people were fighting for — believed in her for. And so to be part of the Resistance would be an admittance of giving up...letting those people down...

She wasn't surrendering like Italy, of course.

"Sure! It happens all the time," Prussia replied waving it off. "Should have seen France a couple of hundred years back with his monarchy. Went from riches to rags like that," he snapped his fingers. "Was it really his choice? Eh, I dunno. He said it was at least."

"But that's France," she replied as if it said everything.

Prussia rolled his eyes. "Fine then. I've done it before."

She looked at him curiously. She wasn't aware of anything like this.

"You have? When?"

"Right now!" He grinned seeing her face get unamused again. "I'm doing it as we speak so there. Your awesome big brother Prussia now grants you permission to fuck shit up." He took a sip of his beer already excited to plan havoc with her. "What are we doing? Shaving his mustache off? Blowing something up? Tell me we're blowing something up."

She leaned on the table with her elbow and placed a hand over her forehead. She was getting a migraine again. It pulsed against her temples in a sharp jolt, and she scrunched her face up slightly in pain.

"Hey, you okay?" Prussia asked wondering what was going on with her suddenly.

Germany lifted her elbow off the table and sat up again wincing at the throb that struck.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just getting a headache again."

Prussia got up to go look for ibuprofen. He settled the white bottle of pills in front of her with some water, which she took thankfully.

"I would really consider it though, West," Prussia said watching her swallow the pills.

"The convent?"

"No, not the convent. I'm talking about fighting back. You've got time on your hands. I'm sure you can find someone who would help you. Because unless you have some other master plan, you're kind of low on options."

Germany gripped onto the glass of water.

_That's what I've been trying to figure out these past few days. I had hoped that maybe Prussia could convince my boss to change his mind but now that that's gone..._

"There has to be another way," she refused.

Prussia shrugged. "There is always just becoming a full-time spy. I'm sure now that you talked to France, those unawesome Allies are going to start creepin'."

_Who I spy on and why is the real question isn't it._

"You still haven't told me how it went with Vichy!" Prussia realized.

"It went fine, _Bruder_ ," she sighed.

"Fine she says," Gilbert motioned. "Tell me the details! Did you get there and go," he swung his fist to demonstrate, "and beat France up? Go CPS on him?"

She didn't always resort to violence.

"No, _Bruder_ I didn't go to fight him. We were civil with each other."

She could be civil sometimes.

Prussia was disappointed. "I was really hoping you were going to punch him."

"No, I didn't assault him. I went to see Vichy, and he's just as bad as before. He's sick and weak." She furrowed her brows stopping though.

He saw her become contemplative. "He's sick and weak and?"

She shook her head. "I was thinking about something. France said all he does is sleep all day. And yet when I was near him, he woke up almost instantly. France was shocked that I was able to get him out of his coma-like state."

Prussia scratched his head. "That is kinda weird." He grinned. "Damn, you're out here blessing babies already." His voice rose in pitch while batting his eyelashes. "Sister Alouisa, how did you do it? Won't you use your divine virgin powers to bless us all, Sister Alouisa?" He held his hands out. "Give pity to a sinner like me Sister Alouisa."

She blushed. "Shut up with your nun comments! There was no miracle. I hypothesize that because I've been away from him for so long, the sudden rush of loyalty that came over him made him wake up."

Prussia booed. "Lame. That explanation is so boring and unawesome."

She crossed her arms. "It's the logical one."

"Maybe. Doesn't really explain why you didn't bring him back though."

She frowned softly. "His loyalty is too divided. Throughout the encounter, his heart would go in between me and France. But by the end, he was more loyal to France. I can't bring him back. It would bring the baby too much stress to rip him away from France and force submission. He's weak as it is."

Her stomach twisted and turned away after an uncomfortable pause. "In an ideal world," she began, "France and I would be together taking care of him. Perhaps that could have made him healthier."

Prussia made a face. France and his sister together being domestic? It made his skin crawl.

Prussia made a big x sign with his arms. "Nope, nope, nope, and NOPE! Sorry Vichy, you're going to have to tough it out like a man. There's no way you're moving in with France and doing that."

"I wasn't implying I wanted to!" she refused hotly. "It's simply a guess. He still fell asleep while I was there and my presence doesn't make up for France's weak military and government."

"And I'm guessing the _Führer_ blew up on you when you told him the report today."

She rubbed at her forehead, the headache from before not gone but worsening when she was reminded of the day's events. She had been up since four in the morning going from Frankfurt to Paris back to Frankfurt to then go report to her boss who had once again shifted in location. Paranoid bastard couldn't just sit still in one city.

"He called me a product recall meant to go back to the factory because I wasn't made correctly. So no, he wasn't pleased."

"You know, if you want to rant, you can," he said not wanting her to think she had to keep it all inside for the sake of appearing strong. She always listened to him ramble, drunken or not, and yet she rarely ever complained. Her and England went a long way with that stiff upper lip.

"There's nothing to rant about," she responded. "You already know how terrible he is."

"Yeah, obviously but it doesn't mean you still can't bitch about it. The awesome me is a great listener!"

He pulled her in close, his hand going on her forearm to make her stumble slightly toward him despite being in the chair. "I'll listen to your woes, _Schwesterlein_. From your dramatic heartbreak to how you beat that sissy France up to how you plan to blow up Hitler's office and stage a coup."

"I'm not going to blow up his office!" she had to get into his head. "Do I look like Finland to you?"

"West, that guy is awesome. _Crazy_ ," he agreed, "but awesome," he finished in awe at the sheer guts that Nordic. "I'm pretty sure all you gotta do is tell him Hitler's a Red and problem solved."

"Wouldn't that be nice," she muttered.

He poked at her cheek. "Come on Lou. There's gotta be something bothering you."

 _Is everything an answer?_ she wondered not even knowing where to begin as he continued to poke at the flesh of her cheek. Living just felt so burdensome now, the anxiety of what tomorrow could bring (or not bring) making her restless and frustrated.

She swatted him away and removed herself from his hold by standing up. The last thing she wanted to do was start crying again when she acknowledged her feelings.

"Your pestering is bothering me," she replied wanting him to drop it already. How she felt didn't matter.

He dropped his arm disheartened. She wouldn't even open up to him.

"Alright fine. Don't blame me when you get a heart attack and die."

She didn't even know how to deal with him sometimes. "That's a health issue, not an emotional one."

"Stress, Lou, stress. It does some unawesome stuff. But no France as a stress reliever," he warned dead serious. "Do what you want but don't go to France."

"I know," she said irritated. "You only say that every single time."

"So you don't forget," he said unbothered by her tone. "I know you. You're defiant at the worst times. And you're loyal at the worst times."

She didn't respond. Her mood was sour. She hated being told what to do like that. She wasn't planning on going against her own common sense. But now that he was forcing her, she didn't like it. It was the principle more than anything. She was just so very delicate and precious wasn't she that France was always a danger.

But Prussia knew that. He had raised her after all. She hadn't changed much from her childhood, and it was obvious to him that she was getting upset by her perceived lack of autonomy.

"But there is some good news though," Gilbert said replied not wanting to end the night on a bad note.

He held up an envelope. "Japan sent you a letter."

Her eyes gleamed in sudden excitement, her face lighting up to forget the earlier discontent.

"When did it come? Are there any more?" she asked eagerly to take the envelope and read what Japan had to say.

"No, not that I saw. It's been stuck in the mailroom for a couple of days but I was awesome enough to sneak it out." He tilted his head up and grinned. "You can say I'm totally awesome now, West. Go ahead, it's okay. You can cry tears of joy."

"Thank you, _Bruder_ ," she responded, truly grateful. "I haven't heard from him in over a year now."

When she said it like that, it was going to make him start going all soft and sad. So he pivoted and started walking toward his room.

"Damn, I hope Japan is doing alright. It would suck if he were to go down for the count too."

Germany nodded. "I worry too. With Japan always out in the sea, I didn't think any of my messages were going through."

"Well!" he exclaimed, startling her. "I'm going to go pack up. Have to be up in four hours so I guess this is goodnight."

She nodded again unsure why he had to pronounce it so loudly. It wasn't like he wasn't coming back.

"Yes, you should get as much rest as you can. I'll see you off tomorrow."

He waved it away acting as if it didn't make him happy to hear that. "Nah, you get your sleep. It's not that big of a deal."

She turned the lights off as she walked out of the kitchen and into the passageway. His room was downstairs so it didn't take much time for him to be at his door.

"I'll be up regardless. I still think it is unfair that you don't have breaks anymore and are forced to take over my work. It is the least I could do, _Bruder_."

He yawned, the beer making him slightly drowsier. He turned the handle to his door. "No changing your mind it seems. Well alright. Goodnight, Lou. I'll see you tomorrow."

She heard the door click closed and it was just her in the hallway. She turned off all the bottom floor lights and headed up the stairs where her room was located. She entered the recently cleaned bedroom and turned on her lamp by her study to sit down and place the envelope on the table. She adjusted herself in the seat and looked for her glasses inside the drawer to the right. Her vision was always worse after a tiring day.

She pushed up her glasses and carefully cut open the envelope with the knife she always had nearby. A piece of paper folded into threes came out and flattened it smooth before picking it up and reading. Her eyes swept across the words.

_"Dear Miss Germany,_

_I apologize for not responding sooner and making you worry. Your letters have been coming through. I wish I could reply to every one of them but I have been busy battling America. Ever since his victory in the Guadalcanal early this year, the fight for the Soloman Islands has been long. He is stubborn but so am I. He desperately wishes for me to surrender but I will not. If you fear my betrayal as well Miss Germany, do not. It would take much more than an invasion to make me abandon the Axis. Is it now the Axis Duo? Italy chose such a strange name…"_

She couldn't help but smile. At least Japan was still with her on this.

But then the next paragraph made her not as happy.

_"I heard about his surrender. It makes me sad that he has left us for the Allies. I had a suspicion it would happen but it does not bring me joy that we must now fight as enemies and not friends. News of the Allies' advancement toward Salerno, Italy troubled me but I did not want to create a false sense of alarm. It seemed as though we were both mistaken in how seriously Romano felt about this war."_

So even Japan knew? Being as far away from Europe as he was, even _he_ knew?

_"You sought my advice in your last letter. While I do not know the full extent of the situation, I would advise talking to Italy. He came calling me in tears that same night. It was unsettling, Miss Germany. He wanted to cry, but he said he didn't deserve to. He was quiet and did not ramble. It was a short call and yet one that makes me worry the most."_

_"It was the voice of someone broken, Miss Germany."_

_"When I asked him why he did not instead call you, he said he didn't want to make you more unhappy. He promised to not annoy me anymore and then hung up soon after as if wanting to say something more."_

_"Whatever you said to him worked."_

Germany's heart was taken hold by a fist. It squeezed and left her putting down the letter in the sudden frustration of wanting to cry. Her elbows hit the table as she sunk her palms into the sockets of her eyes, the flesh of her skin meeting something warm and ached as she took a deep breath in.

_Isn't this what I wanted? I should be glad he isn't coming back, isn't complaining about something that was his fault._

_And yet all I want to do is shed these useless tears._

She pulled herself back up and continued reading. Her throat was tight. It was fine.

_"There is a saying in my military my men hold dear: Duty is weightier than a mountain, while death is lighter than a feather."_

_"Whatever you choose to do Miss Germany, do not make the decision in fear."_

_"Sincerely, Japan."_

She reread Japan's neat handwriting as if it would dissipate her dilemma. Even through a letter, Japan was able to read the atmosphere and tell that what she wanted to hear was not what she actually needed. And that by proxy of her pride, she was making things worse by refusing to listen or speak.

The headache had yet to go away and she removed her glasses to not feel more straining. She pinched her nose trying to find a solution.

_Prussia says to become an anarchist. Japan says to reconcile. Which one do I do? Is there a way to do both?_

The paper became slightly transparent as she held it to the light and read it closer to see. _Duty is weightier than a mountain._ She tightened her hold on the letter.

_I don't know what to do._

It terrified her to admit it.

Logically, the answer was obvious. She and Italy had a misunderstanding. Maybe he was telling the truth about his loyalty, maybe he wasn't. A simple conversation would fix that. Italy surely wouldn't close the door on her, and if he did, she could always force her way in. The means of getting to Italy and having him talk was not the issue.

It was what he would say that scared her. Because what if she fell for what he said, forgave, trusted — allowed herself to sink into those unfamiliar yet wonderful emotions of dare she say happiness — only to end up here, alone, and hurt again?

 _Do not make the decision in fear_. She rose from her seat wanting to get into her pajamas. She turned off her lamp once changed and settled into bed wide awake.

Maybe in the morning, she'll have an answer.

* * *

It was hot.

It was more than hot. It was scorching.

The sun blazed right on her head, her skull burning from how little clouds there were to block the rays.

She wiped a bead of sweat that gathered on her forehead. Above the sand, waves of heat melted and distorted the sky, orange and blue mixing together to create a mirage of sky and desert. She squinted her eyes at the midday sun and fanned herself uselessly by tugging at her tight collar. Clinging onto her body as saran wrap would, her choice in uniform was unfortunate when surrounded by nothing but sun and sand.

 _I'm so thirsty_ , she thought wishing for water and trudging forward. Germany winced at the sand stuck in her socks that grated against her heated feet.

_But I have to keep going._

Once remembering time was of the essence, she forced her heavy body to begin running again. She sprinted across and ran until her legs burned, her lungs dry and desperate for air, with the objective somewhere in the heat of the desert.

She saw a figure in the distance and knew exactly who it was, energy spurting in relief and annoyance.

"ITALY!"

The figure didn't seem to hear her. She continued to run while screaming his name so that he could hear her.

"ITALY!"

She was quick, Italy's figure turning around shakily with a white flag already firmly in his hands. She caught up to him with a hard stop, her body propelling forward then hunching over to catch her breath.

Everything felt hot, her vision blurry, and her throat parched. Uncomfortable heat radiated from her cheeks and head, a fever that stained her face red and disoriented. Her legs were aching, her lungs shriveled to catch oxygen with sweat coating her body.

"...I...finally caught up to you…" she exhaled out needing to rest for a moment.

She swallowed and looked up. Her vision dimmed, and blood rushed out of her head. Her ears rang, a sudden pierce as energy zapped out of her body to make her legs gelatinous.

The sand from before became a sea of blue until eventually, it became black.

* * *

She slowly opened her eyes. She was met with a hovering body over her, a pair of worried amber eyes watching her movements.

"Germany!" he cried happily to see her pull through.

She held onto her head and rose. "Agh, my head. It's pounding."

"Drink." He thrust a canteen to her face so that her lips took the beverage regardless of whatever protest she could give. The sudden assertion surprised her, but she drank as instructed since Italy was forcing it down her throat. It was what she needed anyway, Germany taking large gulps and finishing the canteen's supply. Once he felt it emptied, he backed it away from her mouth. He still looked at her worried.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand once the water was lowered. "Thank you for that. I needed it."

She noticed how cool she felt and looked around at where she was. She noticed the fan spinning near her where her clothes were stacked in a little square. She looked down at her body stripped to only her tank top and pants.

"You took my clothes off," she stated blankly.

He grabbed his white flag and shook it in his hands, the cloth going a mile a minute. "Ah, Germany, don't be mad! I had to take them off or else you would have gotten worse! I didn't touch your boobies I swear!"

_— But I don't care if you do —_

She gave a huff out of her nose, her body still slightly weak from dehydration. "I was going to say thank you." She glared at him, a dangerous aura surrounding her as she popped her knuckles already forming a fist against her palm. "Unless you're lying to me and have something to confess," she challenged.

He was terrified. "No! I'm not! I swear! I'm telling the truth!"

_— I wouldn't mind it. You can touch me if you want to. Please touch me —_

Her dangerous air went away. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

The sound of Italy's men was heard outside of the tent, jokes, and chatter surrounding the camp. It was different than when in Germany's base, men usually laughing from being drunk and nothing else. It was always quieter in Germany's home than it was with him, sounds of whistling and general activity outside the thin tent flaps. She listened quietly as a silence passed through them, a look of contemplation crossing over her face.

"Well um, now that you're better," he started. "Why are you here?"

She turned sharply to him, her movement frightening him.

"I came here because you needed help!" she replied as though it was obvious. "You said you were struggling against England so I came!" She was irritated with herself. "But I didn't predict just how different the climate would be. For the next time, I will dress more appropriately." She looked at his uniform. Italy was smart and dressed in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.

— _I wish he didn't have so many clothes on in the first place —_

He was going to cry. He held his hands up together and looked at her tearfully. "Really? You came here to help me out?"

She furrowed her brows confused. "Is that not what it means to be allies?"

He hugged her overwhelmed with happiness, his chest coming close to her so that she could feel his body pressed against hers. He laughed as he cried. "Yeah! That's what allies are all about! I'll help you when you're in a pinch, don't worry! You can maybe count on someone as useless as me!"

He smiled brightly as he let her go.

She blushed, the redness from embarrassment.

"You already have. You saved me from a heat stroke. You're not completely useless, so don't say that about yourself."

Her words shocked him. He was getting emotional. "Germany. You have that much faith in me?"

Germany got up from the ground standing up tall. She placed her hands on her hips. "Unfortunately I do. Now give me the rundown of what's been going on here. We need to find a way to beat England."

Germany woke up with a racing heart and an even stranger moist sensation between her legs.

_There's no way. That wasn't even a wet dream. It was another memory._

She shifted slightly and could not believe that she had actually gotten excited thinking about the time Italy had stripped her jacket and shirt off because of her heatstroke.

Her face bloomed.

_What am I — a 14-year-old girl?! Having wet dreams at this age!_

She was mortified by her own dreams.

_Did I really get off on the idea of him taking off my jacket when unconscious? He had to or else I would have remained blacked out!_

Germany gripped onto the edge of her blanket.

Despite her brain interjecting lewd comments into the memory, the scene was still another reminder of how she had been played. She had saved that Italian idiot out of military suicide, and this was how he repaid her?

_He promised to come help when I was in a pinch. I'm in a pinch now._

_As if I need him to save me! I don't need anyone!_

She was a liar, and she knew it. For two nights she had dreamed about their past.

_I really gave him everything, didn't I?_

Her military aid, her rations, her house, her body, her trust, her love —

 _Sex isn't love,_ she denied not knowing why she had come to that conclusion. _He_ _was fulfilling an order. He strategized the attack and lured me in. I'll applaud him on that. He was able to analyze and attack my weakness to get what he wanted._

This made her think. She heard the one a.m. birds chirping.

_Prussia said to join the Resistance. And Japan said to try and talk to him. His leaving doesn't cancel out my boss's desire for a baby. If it was casual for him, why can't it be casual for me too? Why am I placing so much worth into it?_

Once she thought about it, the more it didn't make sense to her.

_For France and Italy... a life of pleasure is an easy one. There's no shame in it._

She rose from the bed mulling it over. _All my boss wants is a baby. He doesn't care how that's achieved. He's not requiring me to get married. He doesn't care about how many men I have to try to get the results he wants. He's strangely liberal when it comes to imposing a conservative view on me_ , she realized.

 _If he doesn't care who I do it with, why should I? Italy wasn't a virgin when he did it with me. I bet he got a real kick out of popping my cherry_ , she was bitterly reminded.

 _So why am I crying over him?_ She felt emptiness settle in. _I'm done caring more about him than he does for me. I did everything for him but not anymore. Those days aren't coming back._

She looked out the window

_Japan and Prussia are right. If this is the kind of warfare we're playing now, then I can't hold back either._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Go CPS on him": For my non-American readers, CPS as in Child Protective Services. As you would imagine, there are many negative stigmas around it.
> 
> "An Alsatian Dialect That Made France Wince": Referring to the Alsace-Lorraine Region, a territory that was ceded by France to Germany in 1871 after the Franco-German War. An interesting place where it's not quite German but not quite French either.
> 
> ...
> 
> I kind of hate this chapter. It's taken me so long to post it because I've been busy with school but also because this whole thing feels off to me.
> 
> Writing France is hard! I don't read or write much of him so his personality was hard to capture here given the context of the situation. I researched this chapter by watching old clips of Hetalia to escape fanon for a bit and only became more confused. He and China are my weak points, but I tried.
> 
> As you can probably tell, Germany is edging toward the hoe phase of the breakup process. Soooo, if you've read the tags, I think you know where the next chapter is heading ;)
> 
> The one thing about not posting in a while is that I fear I lose a lot of you guys reading. So if you've made it this far, thank you! I really appreciate it. Don't be afraid to drop a comment to let me know what you thought. All feedback, even kudos, helps a lot.
> 
> Until next time my lovelies!


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